Idiosyncrasy
by OCfan11
Summary: A mode of behaviour or way of thought peculiar to an individual. OC-reborn-as-Leonie-Pinelli
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

**1**.

The Leicester Alliance is hit with an epidemic. It begins at the boarder between them and the Empire, moving inwards. Some think it's a magical disease with how it effects people, while some think it is a plague.

In Sauin Village, Leonie Pinelli is the only child to survive.

**2**.

Her first-

Second-

First-

Her name is Leonie Pinelli.

She is-

Her age is-

She's been alive-

She is a baby.

She feels different. The world is too focused, too clear.

Her family-

The names of her parents-

Oh.

Sickness took her new mother.

Her new father is a hunter for the village.

Something isn't right.

Why is it familiar?

Why does it _sound_ familiar?

Why is the world so clear?

Why does she want-

Need-

_Focus_.

Leonie Pinelli.

Leonie.

Pinelli.

Why does that sound-

…_oh_.

**3**.

Leonie Pinelli.

Strengths: Lances, Bows, Riding.

Weaknesses: None.

No real resistance to magic.

Born into the Leicester Alliance.

Commoner, poor, no Crest.

Only character trait: to annoy/anger the protagonist with her obsession of the main character's father.

**4**.

A little girl gnaws on a plastic arrow in her cribs and realizes, _I hate myself_.

The only options now, is to become someone else.

**5**.

Her father holds her arms steady, the tension in the bow making her shake.

"Easy," he mutters. Orange hair runs on his side of the family. "Release on three. One, two, _three_."

It hits the target, but nowhere near the center. Leonie smiles anyways, a rush filling her body thinking about how the arrow cut in_to_-

_Focus_.

She is five years old again, poachers slowly stealing kills and attacking hunters. There is only one pregnant woman in the village, and Leonie needs to take up the hunter skills lest there be a generation gap. Next week will be her first time joining the hunt.

She's never shot a living thing before. Never _killed_ before. Yet-

-_smooth steel, sharp edges, a purr building in her throat as she traces the cold metal_-

-this body is prepared for it. Prepared to fight, to kill those that threaten her people. Leonie runs laps, does yoga and stretching whenever she can, and lifts heavier things for the villagers who need help. She has energy for days, stamina and endurance that only wants to expand. The small, orange haired child only wants to _move_.

While the physical aspects are great, no one in the village knows magic. No one can teach her, and that's the real thing _new Leonie_ wants to learn. She wants it as badly as she yearns to sharpen knives and make arrowheads. This new body was made to survive, her memories of an old world only amplifying it. Proof is in making it through the sickness that took over three quarters of their poor village.

Leonie draws back the bowstring again, as her father commands in his soft, caring voice. Her fingers are squishy, ready to bleed against the not-exactly sharp wire of her training bow. This will change, she knows. _Grins_ as she fires another arrow.

A little closer, but still wide. This, too, will change. _New Leonie_ won't settle for less then the best archer – _best sniper_ – in Garreg Mach Monastery. Her future depends on it.

_Everyone's_ future depends on the breaking of _fate_.

**6**.

_New Leonie_ lists ten things she can remember about the story every night.

_Number Six: there is a plague in the Kingdom that kills Dimitri's mother._

She wonders if it's anything like the one that left half the Alliance weak to magic, or if they were just the testing grounds.

**7**.

She feels nothing after the kill.

That should be scary.

Leonie is a born killer.

_New Leonie_ doesn't want that.

Still, there is no fear. No horror. No anger.

Leonie's nature does not allow regret of her actions. _New Leonie's_ nurture tries to make her feel it.

The nature takes over when her father scolds her for not eating her kill that night. Emotionlessly, deadly, the five-year-old chews the cooked meat.

Different world, different rules. Her stomach turns as she remembers the moment of her last-life's death.

Swallow.

_Merge_.

_New Leonie_ attempts the shrug off a lifetime of societal pressure and turns her thoughts towards _killing people_.

Realizes quickly that if it wasn't for her father, then eventually the tutelage of Jeralt, and finally the fact that someone would notice if a person in the village turned up dead, Leonie could have quickly become a serial killer with her instincts and wants.

_Leather grip, carved stone. Pretty, pretty sword._

**8**.

Hyperfixation.

Maybe it was a dash of hero worship that started Leonie's obsession for Jeralt Eisner, but the root of the problem is in her nature.

_New Leonie_ realizes it after spending hours debating what knife she wants to sneak under her pillow. At first she thought it was for safety – she hasn't stopped being paranoid since she ended up in this second life – but the obsession extends to all weapons in the village. It's careful enough that only to her is it noticeably unhealthy. The way her gaze lingers on the sharp objects she passes, how she thinks of all the ways to use them. Waking up and realizing her every question about the world has become about learning to wield weapons, how to repair them and what types there are.

She's stopped asking for paper and writing utensils, since the village is too poor to spare her any. She can't make it through a meal without imagining what whetstone is needed to sharpen her knife. She yearns to feel all types of metal, grip fabrics, and wood.

She _craves_ to feel magic. To utilize it in ways her old world could only dream of.

As of now, this is her obsession, her life. This is her hyperfixation, the thing that can consume her so badly she blocks out the world.

There could be worse or weirder, she decides. Her little venture into art is more suited to designing weapons and armor than painting landscapes. At least this is practical, and not pointed towards creative ways to kill people. Not yet. She isn't obsessing over a person, is no longer the only student who preys upon the family dynamic of the Eisners.

Hopefully this is the only obsession she keeps when Jeralt finally does appear.

**9**.

She works hard to keep her anger – _murderous impulses_ – in check, to keep her tongue still when she just wants to say everything she feels.

Leonie is blunt, impulsive, and brash. _New Leonie_ knows she is also assertive, lethal, and uncaring about being a killer. They take the life of a bandit at six, killing him with the knife she hides under her pillow. The orange haired village sweetheart dispatches the rest with the assistance of her skills and memories of her past life. The human body is a topic she studied, _she knows all the weak points_. The village wakes up to dead bodies in the street, no idea who killed them as the eldest child in the area sleeps with a smile on her face.

She was an adult, once upon a time. Leonie of the story she knew was a child who couldn't comprehend why people outside the village didn't exactly _like her_. A child at nineteen, a pawn for fate and time. Strong in body, weak in alliances. One of the most disliked side characters in this story of time travel and war.

Leonie never did get better.

_Leonie the adult_ has an advantage of being someone new. _Hopefully_, she ponders while twirling a knife in her fingers, _hopefully, I get better even if I start out disliked as well_.

Though, really, no need to worry about that until the Main Character chooses their fate.

**10**.

Friction. Heat. Combustion.

Leonie narrows her eyes at the wick of the candle, mind whirling with the ways one could set something ablaze.

Chemical reaction. Energy. Ignition.

Her body tingles, "Fire."

A small flame appears. Leonie smiles as she feels the minute drain from her ample energy. "Extinguish."

The candle goes out.

She cups her hands. Thinks about fire safety. "Fireball."

A molten coal the size of her palm, burning red and hovering above her hands. There is no heat felt on her end, but the stronger tug on her magic means it works.

Later, she waits until an accidental cut happens while trekking through the forest. Heal doesn't work with Faith magic, but black Reason magic of accelerated _healthy_ cell division works just as effectively.

It's nice to know she does not have to _hope_ for magic to work, only _believe_ it will.

Next test, magical buffs.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do know own Fire Emblem. All rights belong to their respective owners. **

**A/N: Thanks for reading. ****I hope everyone has a fantastic day**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**1.**

There are three stand-out good things to being Leonie Pinelli.

One: She is not born in the Empire.

(_But that didn't help Lysithea- I'm still in danger- got to- where's the- helpless against_-)

Two: She is so blunt no one would never dream that she'd be a threat they didn't see coming.

(_I'm not her- not blunt or crass or- no matter how much the words __**beg**__ to be released_\- _I'm changed- not her-_)

Three: No weaknesses.

(_I'm weak, weak, weakweakweakweak_-)

There is a fourth, but normal people won't see it as a good thing. She has no unreal expectations about her role. There are things a nineteen-year-old could do, but the cards were stacked against Leonie on that route from the moment she was born.

Four: Leonie is not a hero.

She is a survivor.

(_I am alive_.)

**2**.

The wolves in the forest wait until she's removed her arrow before descending on the poacher. She is ten years old again, and her father is sick. The other hunters are closer to town, but she's been sneaking out long enough to practice magic and knows where the good game and forge is. All one must do is watch out for the poachers.

_Slimy thieves on my territory._

It is easier working with the body than straining against it. Nudge it to fixate on healthier things. The territorial feelings are pushed towards land rather than people, the hyperfixation on weapons, and obsession towards hoarding money. Her hands no longer shake before an attack, her mind no longer rebels at the immorality of killing. Children are meant to be blank slates to survive, and if she didn't let go of her first-life morals and social norms then she would have fought the natural instincts unto a second death. If starving didn't do her in, the chemical upheaval her underdeveloped body was unprepared for would have.

Leonie fixes the dead squirrels to her belt, face blank. She looks for signs of others, but it seems the poachers are getting the message. Either that, or they're preparing to try and trap her.

A flicker of dread comes and goes from her eyes. She hopes it isn't going to be a trap but resigns herself to it happening eventually. Returning to the dead poacher, this time void of wolves and their easy feast, she picks up the few coins on the ground. With a sigh at the meager amount, she flicks one in the air for the quick pleasure of _shiny_.

The money gets pocketed. She moves to the trees, climbing up to avoid any straggler hungry wolves that may just come back. Never going to make that mistake again.

She slinks and leaps over branches, wishing she could have had the strength to carry larger game while in the treetops. Leonie is already tall, starving some days as the calories she loses outweigh those needed for her growth spirts. There are more mouths to feed in the village now, and not enough to keep up in seasons where crops are minimal. The fat on her is gone, sadly. No insulation against biting winds and not strong enough to fight the other predators for large prey.

This is all ignoring how the Monastery's admittance fee for commoners without a noble's recommendation is three times the amount of a noble's fee.

A tree branch breaks in her hand. Leonie smiles sharply as she hisses, taking a deep breath to swallow the scream at the unfairness. They haven't had a merchant stop by in months. The House Gloucester won't help them, their village was thought doomed and left to rot as the poultry industry they excelled in dried up. The Country of Gloucester is a large mass in the Alliance territory, Sauin Village less than a blip on the map.

Yes, as much as she enjoys these days away from the darkness of the Monastery, Empire, and Kingdom, Leonie is bitter towards no one assisting her territory. They are mostly isolated from other villages, being full day walks one way or another. News about politics comes and goes so slowly, she isn't sure how the timeline of events is looking. Worst of all…

Leonie lands on a fruit tree. She unties the sack around her belt and gets to picking.

Worst of all, the only thing tying her to this place is the freedom it offers. Her body and emotions have rejected ties to the villagers – even to her _father_ – and has placed them as no name, weak, _prey_. She cannot force respect or trust towards them, it feels distasteful to even think of requesting their aid in her future schooling because of this. Canon Leonie had talked about how their support meant a lot to her, so maybe it is a mix of new Leonie and the easy killer's body that causes this.

_Rip. Tear. So hungry._

Leonie takes a deep breath and plasters on her truest smile before re-entering the village. Maybe she could try a levitating spell at home; if her father sees it then she'll pass it off as a dream of his.

Magic really is a wonderful thing. Too bad her _Faith_ can't even conjure up a minor heal spell.

**3**.

It is in a bush, cursing her luck and stealthily trying to draw back an arrow, that Leonie watches in awe as a buck comes flying out of nowhere and _destroys_ the poachers carving up a fawn. It'd be a beautiful karmic vengeance, if she weren't ten feet away from it. At first, her bow and arrow stay up. Then she realizes what's before her.

A golden deer.

Something in her body yearns to go for it, to assist with its destruction. The buck seems to have it all handled, horns causing untold damage to the screaming men and woman who thought to prey on his kind. Leonie watches with bated breath as the calm settles, the buck standing there panting and alert until he realizes no one is left. Then he walks over to the body of his young and lets out a cry.

The wanting in her heart turns quickly to grief. For the first time since this rebirth, Leonie feels empathy for another. It is startling, hand quickly covering her chest as she feels like crying as well. She looks down at the ground, unable to handle to sight of her future house's animal and the raw emotions this body has refused to generate on its own.

She only leaves long after he's gone, not sticking around the area. Her heart feels stretched and stretched, until finally hours later something _snaps_ and she's back to normal. Back to lone focus on weapons, no longer thinking of the golden deer and its emotion-educing self.

Even if the whole event was confusing, one thing is for certain: the deer here are no longer her prey.

**4**.

She is eleven and – even if their village doesn't get much news, this spreads _everywhere_ – Emperor Ionius IX of the Adrestian Empire loses nearly all the power he's ever held. Truly, all he is now is a figurehead, likely to be the final monarch to ever hold political power in his kingdom. The people can look to him, still recognize his authority, and he and his family can remain in their castle, but any dip into the governing system may in fact have him killed by one of the seven who threw coup.

_Really though_, Leonie wonders as she holds out a hand, alone in the forest once more, _did he have any power before_, _or were those slithering in the dark puppeteering him already?_

If Edelgard and any remaining siblings haven't been experimented on already, then they will when the they're taken back to the Empire in a few years. How ironic, the Emperor's true love ends up married to the King. Leonie's wondering if she'll ever feel love again, or if it's all distant chess pieces forevermore. If she ran now, maybe she'd make it before something big happened. Who would believe her? If she could give a sign, who could figure it out?

If she could get her hands on two books, oh what a security risk she'd cause.

Shaking her head, Leonie grits her teeth and focuses. Pushes the all her energy, the magic and calories she can afford to burn, and thinks _bow_.

It's all in her head, sleek yet easy grip. Smooth and sturdy. The mechanics, shifting and correcting until finally hard white light forms under her hand. It crackles, black reason magic like lightening and glyphs appearing and disappearing over the white. The forest is silent as she grits out a scream, forcing the magic to her will. To her _belief_.

The bowstring snaps together, looking like glass. Her mind still whirling, magic still zapping, she flicks it. It thrums the air as though it's real, the leaves stirring by her feet from the vibrations. The next part is easier. The dark magic crackles as she reaches forward, shielding her, hiding her, and Leonie holds her fingers as if placing an arrow. As she draws back, it forms. Light, plasma, magic.

_I am betrayal._

She lets go.

The bow dissipates from her hands in her unfocused waver. Leonie drops her hands, magic dying down and falling silent within her, leaving behind the empty burn of using too much. Her stomach growls. She stumbles forward.

Seven trees have perfect holes burned through them. The last one has sparks around it, as though something exploded. That will need to be fixed, the arrow was supposed to stay after release. Leonie collapses against the tree, writhing as her body calls for sustenance. Her fat stores depleted, the third stage of starvation beginning. She needs to _eat_.

The energy had to come from somewhere. Lesson learned.

It's a long crawl back, but rebuilding muscle mass is always the worst.

**5.**

Puberty begins (again) around the age of twelve, and being a young commoner female who's spent her whole life scavenging the forest to feed a village means it goes as well as expected. There's a talk, mentions about how she'll have to find someone who can put up with her lest she goes for an older widower in the village, and finally starts to think about S Ranks.

The asexuality would be more of a surprise if Leonie wasn't an asexual her past life. There's no touch aversion this time, and no qualms that she is aromantic. Sometimes, even when the body is in chemical turmoil, egged on by the healing via Reason magic, personal preferences will shine through. Unfortunately, the lack of wanting to take an arrow to the knee or further populate the country are not something one politely speaks about in Fódlan. It's all _duty _this and _your role_ that.

By the time she's thirteen, Leonie's flipflopping between swearing loyalty to the first person she can respect or becoming a killer for hire. What she'd really like to do is have a museum of weapons, but that's a little too unrealistic and dangerous in a world that thrives on stealing and adding durability points to weapons. For now, she's content _dealing_ with the poachers that have moved too close with the animals after a landslide took out part of the forest.

She has a quarter of the tuition fee after all these years of stealing from corpses. It sucks.

At thirteen, Leonie's still paranoid about the future when the present arrives with all its gruff, immortal-looking, mercenary father vibes.

**6**.

When Leonie first lays eyes on him, she's in the forest carefully gathering mushrooms. Being on high alert for poachers means she hears him before they spot each other. The girl who debates killing people for a living lays eyes on the Blade Breaker, the greatest captain of one of the largest band of mercenaries, and once the greatest Captain of the Knights of Seiros, father of the main character, _Jeralt Reus Eisner_.

And she freezes. Emotions flood through her, begging her to go to him. Forcing thoughts of safety, ideas of strength, and _wanting to serve_ into her very being. If she had truly been a child in mind and body, this would have been enough for her obsessive tendencies to latch onto and _never let go_.

_What_, Leonie scrambles to recollect her independence, to remember what it was like when she always felt the full and expressive range of emotions, _is happening?_

He sees her orange hair first, a beacon in the greens and browns of the forestry, and lowers his sword a bit with a forced smile. "Hello there, kid. Are you Leonie?"

"Yes, sir," she forces out, limbs locked in place as she fights the need to run to him. Fights the _himhimhim_ thoughts.

"Your old man was worried about you," Jeralt strides near, gaze flickering around until they land on her rucksack of mushrooms. "Said he had told you not to go hunting with all the poachers around."

Leonie snorts, face turning defensive. Leeches back the obsession to turn it into familiar distaste of the _prey_ back in the village. It makes a good shield between the growing pull to the man she shouldn't know. "He didn't tell me anything. Too busy with his tongue down my teacher's throat."

Jeralt pauses for a second, mere feet away. Then holds out a hand. "Is that a common occurrence?"

Leonie hesitates. Some part of her knows that if she takes it, she'll be doomed to obsess over the man. To support him at all costs, preach praise about his deeds. To want to do everything she can to protect him from the fate she knows the future holds, even if it means screwing up the plans she has now. Her every nerve is on fire from withholding, from staying as still as possible. "More common then _this_. What are you doing to me?"

He frowns, sceptic. "Helping you up."

"_No_," she grits her teeth. "_Why_ do I _feel_ like I n_e_e_d_ to _be_ with you?"

His arm falls, steps away. In moments, the feeling _stops_. Leonie starts panting as pain turns to longing ache, emotions falling back to neutral distaste. There's a hint of respect, though. Somehow, he's earned her respect, something no one in the village has ever managed before. After a long instant, filled by her harsh breath, Jeralt asks, "Have you ever been around someone with a Crest before?"

"No?" Leonie responds, finally able to move. Gathering her things to at least stand and face him. "Everyone with a Crest died when I was a kid, and I'm usually out when merchants or travellers stop by."

He swears, returning his sword to his sheath. "You never-" he swears a bit more, looking older than his normal appearance. Tired. "We'll talk about this back in the village. Let me go first, so I can warn my men not to be idiots."

A smile tugs at her lips and Leonie follows. A quick run through her short hair – fire magic and a bear once got hold, she'll never have it longer than her neck again – before she finally feels somewhat more centered. Somewhat more ready to face fate.

Always ready to _break it_.

**7**.

"Have you never seen a whetstone before?"

With his men patrolling, keeping the other villagers away, it is just Jeralt – they were finally introduced – and Leonie sitting on opposite stumps in the chopping yard. She rolls the beautiful gift between fingers, "Nothing this perfect."

"Then you know how to sharpen a blade," he hands her a _silver sword_. Their village could never afford something of this quality, _how_ _can they afford this man's company_? "Sharpen this while we talk?"

"Yes sir," Leonie does her best to hold in the purr. The weapon and sharpening tool are enough to bliss out her obsession, she feels the most satisfied she has since her personal bow was carved. It's taking a lot of effort not to fall into hyperfixation mode at the sight of her reflection in the silver.

"My kid likes to sharpen tools when we do heavy talks," he sighs slumping back. "Wasn't sure that was a thing or not."

"Your child must have excellent coping skills," Leonie can't believe she says it with a straight face. "My father won't let me assist with the town's weapon upkeep." Not since he spotted her cooing to the lances. Not that it stops her from hoarding and repairing the broken, thrown away supplies.

"Right, well, he probably just wants what's best for you and you shouldn't make it harder for him."

That sounds so rehearsed. Leonie pauses after the air around them reverberates with sword on stone. Takes a little pleasure she can deadpan at him, "What did you want to talk about, Jeralt?"

"Right, right," he sighs. "Well, straight to the point, I think you're suffering from Crest-bond trauma and Crest sensory."

The questions are on her tongue, wanting to blurt out. Leonie clenches her jaw and thinks for a moment, methodically moving the sword and whetstone. "And those are…?"

"Well, Crests are uncommon, right? A long time ago, they used to be even rarer. A Crest sensor was someone who could sense if another had an active Crest or affinity to a Crest, but as Crests grew more common, born Crest sensors grew rarer. My kid's a Crest sensor, so that's how I know all this. That's why I think you have the skill."

_A trade off_, Leonie ponders. More Crests, less reason to need to pick up on them. That begs the question, why would sensors have been needed? Worse, what if they less _died out_ and were more _killed_ because of their ability? They are a lot of old people on Fódlan who wouldn't want to be detected, after all. "So, does being a sensor have to do with the attraction?"

Jeralt makes a pained face. "No, no kid. That's probably amplifying what you feel, but it isn't why you feel it." He does a long look around, making sure no one can hear as he leans closer, gets quieter. "Do you know why commoners follow the leaders of their land without question?"

"…Because we have to?"

"It's because most leaders have stronger Crests," Jeralt leans back, pulling out another whetstone to toy with himself. "It's… look, I used to not have a Crest. Did the commoner stuff before I got hired by- doesn't matter. Point is, I know what you're dealing with. Crest-bond trauma. It happens when someone close to you who has a Crest, dies. You said your entire village lost everyone with a Crest?"

"Well, yah," Leonie rests the sharpened sword in her lap, fingers copying Jeralt in trying to do the tricks he's got with the whetstone. "There was an illness, it went through most of the south, south-middle, and western-middle of the Alliance. I'm the only survivor of my village, and word is that everyone infected who had a Crest died quicker. I think it's the plague that hit the Kingdom we heard about, but since we heard the news a year later it could have been something else."

"I… don't remember hearing about the Alliance getting hit."

Leonie rolls her eyes. "Of course you didn't. No one in the Alliance _wants_ to admit they lost tons of people. We aren't even on the map anymore, so I think Gloucester's made it pretty clear they're not going to support us."

There's a spark of recognition in the man's eyes. "_O_kay, that makes more sense. Back to my point about Crest-bonds, it's a pretty _hush hush_ thing the Church doesn't tell anyone since sensors stopped appearing. And, uh, don't tell anyone you're a sensor. There's some heavy stigma against them."

"Make sure you tell me why before you go," Leonie holds her chin high, stroking the silver. "But what _are_ Crest-bonds?"

"They're the reasons why commoners don't rebel against their lords, lords against then country's leaders, and so on. Every person forms a bond with someone who has a Crest, one bond for every different Crest. House Gloucester should have sent someone into your village at least once a year to make sure every child and adult in their territory is bonded to them. The stronger the person's Crest, the stronger the bond. The stronger the bond… the less likely people will cause problems for the landlord."

"And since I can sense Crests, it will be a very strong bond anyways, won't it?"

"Yes," Jeralt doesn't sugar-coat it. "And, since you sense bonds, you can choose not to create them. That's why there's stigma about it. If no one else can have a choice, why do you get to?"

"That's why heirs need to have Crests," Leonie groans. "Or else there's a larger chance the people won't like them and rebel. Oh gees, is that why no one here is mad Gloucester left us to rot for years?"

"Probably."

Leonie curses a string of words that have Jeralt laughing and reminding her not to speak treason. "So, Crest-bond trauma is from everyone dying. What does that mean for me, though?"

"Your body is trying to force you into bonding again," Jeralt loses his humor, "filling the void. Whatever bond you create next will be overpowering, which is why I'm shocked you managed to stop an attachment from forming to me. Great job, Leonie."

"Thanks," she musters up her sweet angel smile mask. "Can you teach me? The Crest sensor and Crest-bond and _everything_? I don't want to go through this for the rest of my life, and I don't want to have forced allegiance to anyone."

"Of course," he breaks into a smile, "and I won't leave until I'm sure you're ready to take the world by storm."

He has trust in her to learn it all before his time limit here is up and he returns to the child of indeterminate gender he's weirdly closed lip about. Leonie is fine with that, she doesn't want to interfere with the main character's family life more than necessary. Does not want to bond with anyone and then drink the rest of her life away when it inevitably breaks.

_New Leonie_ cannot stand the thought of facing Seiros or the Agarthans and becoming obsessed with them. Even just the thought of them sends her reaching for a weapon.

Maybe this training will also curb some of her _fixation_ tendencies. Leonie can only wish.

**8**.

_Meditation_, he suggests. Like she doesn't meditate already. It doesn't help with Faith magic, barely keeps her predispositions in line, but putting it towards Crest sensory changes _everything_. Leonie opens her eyes and sees the glowing veins that carry Jeralt's Crest. A light switch in her head, ready to turn on and off the power with a blink. She gazes around the forest, memorized by the black and white that signal solid-no-Crest and leftover dragon-magic respectively.

"Not going to lie, kid, that's creepy," the Blade Breaker interrupts. Leonie blinks, shutting off the world and squinting at all the normal colours. "Your eyes went black there. Any idea why?"

"No clue," she shrugs, "but your insides were the only thing really bright when I sensed for Crests, so…"

"Another reason not to broadcast your ability," he grunts. "Think you're up to fighting a bond?"

Leonie smirks, shuffling to straighten and center. One of the few good things about no regrets, no ties, it is very easy to find herself. _Switch_. Her eyes must be black again as he doubletakes. Keeping watch on his silver light, she snipes, "Bring it on!"

When he lets go of the power, it's nearly blinding. _Major Crest of Seiros_. It reaches far past his body, silver light strands curling through the air. Where it touches her skin, the power burns and prickles. Then come the small, broken rainbow of wisps from her body, causing the yearning and begging her to accept the offer. Now that she can see it, watch it, she can _reason_ it.

There is a ward on her tongue behind grinding, clenched teeth. Leonie's first reaction is to throw up a wall, block it out. To keep that though, requires energy. To be immovable, equal or greater force must be offered, and just touching could initiate a bond. If it can't go through, why not send it around? _Why not hide?_

Jeralt jerks back as she releases a stressed breath, her colours falling away and leaving her as dark as the world around her. The silver flows around her like mist, searching the air but never touching things it deems worthless.

"Leonie, what did you do?"

"Made myself invisible to your Crest," she blinks back into colour. Even grey is a nice thing to see after so long in Crest-vision. "I think I can keep it up indefinitely since it doesn't use too much magic. Did you feel something?"

He squints. "Now that I think about it, it does feel like you're… well, like I shouldn't pay mind to you. If you have to take it down for any reason, then you shouldn't put it until you're alone. It's a bit of a jolt when you fade into the background."

"Gotcha, sir!"

"That said, you really should learn to resist. If you ever run out of energy and that drops, you don't want to be bonding to the enemy."

He makes a very good point. "So, do we go again?"

"Until you can confidently resist, yah. Get ready."

**9**.

The poachers are dealt with by the end of the week. The band of mercenaries cart back the prizes of smugglers they dealt with the same day. Cows, sheep, chicken, _horses_.

"You ever ride one before?" Jeralt asks, watching her climb on with ease.

"No," Leonie answers honestly, knowing this is supposed to be one of her strengths. She is a bit awed to be up so high, body automatically adjusting as the horse begins to walk. A beautiful, piebald colouring, fitting so well with the theme of the week. A few of Jeralt's men and women bring colour to Crest-vision, none as bright as him but enough to know her ward keeps up as she walks past. Some don't even appear to see her.

Morbid curiosity has her wondering about Jeralt's unnamed, unknown gender child. What will it look like, gazing at their Crest?

"Now this, I know how to teach," Jeralt walks up on his horse next to her. "I can even show you have to fight on horseback."

Even if they aren't bonded through spirit, not by his Crest or her body's obsessive tendencies, Leonie still finds herself respecting him. A part of her that's still a child wishes he was her father. She'll settle for a mentor, since it's the first real middle finger she's giving the future. "Teach me!"

**10**.

_Ten people from the Empire._

Edelgard, Hubert, Ferdinand, Bernadetta, Linhardt, Caspar, Dorothea, Petra – _has Brigid been taken over yet; doesn't matter_ – and Manuela, Monica.

_Nine people from the Kingdom._

Dimitri, Dedue, Sylvain, Ingrid, Felix, Ashe, Annette, Mercedes, Rodrigue, and… _and_… Miklan.

_Eight Crest names._

Seiros, Flames, B- Blaiddyd, Riegan… _who are the saints_? _Right_. Cethleann, Cichol, Indech… _the guy who lives in the Alliance_… Macuil.

_My seven classmates._

Claude, Hilda, Lysithea, Lorenz, Ignatz, Raphael, Marianne.

_Six different classes._

Nobel, commoner, assassin, thief, paladin, warlock.

_Five Church-certified weapon types._

Sword, lance, axe, bow, gauntlets.

_Four Church devoted._

Cassandra, Cyril, Gilbert, Seteth.

_Three people to kill._

Kronya, Solon, Edelgard's uncle.

_Two types of magic._

Faith and Reason.

_And the one girl writing her name in the dirt._

Leonie Pinelli shakes her dominant hand while rubbing out her work with the other. She looks forward to having paper once again, to not have to practice in secret on the ground with a sharpened stick. Real ink, maybe even graphite. A girl can dream.

She'll have a few more years before she can start taking mercenary quests or hunt for other villages. Better sharpen the school-required skills now.

Maybe also inform her father her plans for the future. The country will be embroiled in war anyways. If she doesn't die trying to get into Garreg Mach Monastery, she'll probably die from not having connections to the main character. Getting into the Monastery really is the best way to screw with the future possibilities, even if it's also playing into fate's hands.

And… maybe secretly, Leonie is just hoping for a friend.

Where better to find one, then the den of predators?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

**1**.

Since Jeralt so kindly gave them the animals, it takes mere months after he and his troupe are gone before trade starts up again in Sauin Village. This also means no one is scraping by for food, everyone is sharing equally, _even if it means some go hungry at night_.

If Leonie isn't practicing her horseback riding, she's out in the forest for a few nights tracking game. They learn not to miss her; she learns how to see Crest bonds. She can see her own broken threads whenever she lets the ward drop, it is not a logical leap to see others. Finding moments to look when people can't see her eyes change is the issue.

It appears that everyone except her and the children have a dulled violet blue mist thread, likely the Crest of Gloucester. It reaches strong, thick, a few feet away from them before disappearing into the air. Some have it wrapped around their hearts, others their hands where more threads sprout.

There only ever seems to be one around the heart. In the deer of the forest, it is a golden, sparkling yellow-white that points away from the village. Leonie still remembers the mascot animal, and not even curiosity lets her kill or follow the deer towards the Crest bearing one. She comes to the realization that she has not killed a deer, cannot bring herself to do it. There are no lions in this forested area, and no eagles when there are so many vultures swooping by from the deserts.

Leonie has no idea if she'd be able to kill the other houses. At the moment, the answer is mentally _yes_. She doesn't _know_ them, isn't _friends_ or _bonded_. Physically, though…

_Weakweakweakweakweakweak…_

And physiologically? Leonie's yet to kill a predator face-to-face. She'd like to save that honor for an Agarthan or Nabatean.

It's just a little daydream. Not everyone can kill an immortal, after all.

**2**.

_Harden_.

The skin of her fingers becomes more durable, unable to be pierced or split.

_Strength_.

Her muscles jolt a bit, their lifting capacity increasing as Leonie grips a tree branch.

_Sticky fingers_.

There is no slip. All grip and release. The teenager jumps.

_Lightweight_.

_Speed_.

The buffs do their job. In no time, she's climbed up the highest tree around, gazing at the world below. A beautiful sunset, the full moon already appearing.

Today is day two without sleep. She's been manic most of the day, stalking the herd of buffalo with no mercy. This is the first sign of ever seeing the animals, all she wants is one to take home.

What she needs to do is snatch it before any other predator does, and then climb home. Simple, sure, except for everything in between. Climbing would be slower than if she ran, but she's not faster than everything in the forest floor yet. The herd is currently grazing and getting one alone or even shooting now would startle everything into a panic.

She's also on a time limit. Once the forty-eight hours mark hits, she'll start hallucinating. Seventy-two, she'll pass out. Oh, yes, she could try to go past it, but that begins the stages of starvation even if she's well fed. Constant reason magic will apparently do that to the body. Got to have the energy to think straight and block out the brain's _I'm_ _tired_ sensors. It's not like anyone around here actually grows _coffee beans_.

_Screw it_, Leonie pulls out her bow. The sudden burst of anger at not having delights like _chocolate_ or _coffee_ because they're so far out of the way and _unimportant_ in the _grand scheme of things _gives her strength. Not to keep her patience. No, hitting the twenty-four hours mark of wakefulness means she's far past patience. She is _buzzing_ with terrible ideas.

"This is so unhygienic," the teenager grumbles and delicately licks her thumb. Fire, she's found, is her primary element. She sticks her thumb against an arrowhead, spitting the grime out off to the side. While she can set things alight with ease, wards use less energy. Wards on herself, easy. Passing it off through others though…

It's either spit or blood and cutting herself open would be the grosser of the two. Passing energy through a liquid is much easier than doing it through a solid, and air the easiest of all what with _speaking out loud_.

The magic of the ward in her saliva bursts to life after crackling in black reason magic. She notches the arrow and _breathes_.

Releases.

The buffalo goes down, frozen. Frost appears on the arrow's shaft and there's no way anyone or thing is going to steal her kill now. Leonie grins before realizing she'll have to apply more wards and buffs in order to keep herself from catching the cold.

At least she's not hallucinating yet.

**3**.

The first time she's brought along to another village, it's to help barter goods and services. Their village wants the goods, their hunters are the services.

Leonie smiles, throwing the bartender off-guard, just like Jeralt told her. "Hello! My name is Leonie! I'm currently a hunter in my village!"

"Currently?" asks the gruff, hard-eyed man cleaning a glass. It all feels very stereotypical. "So does that mean you want to be something else?"

"I want to be a mercenary!"

"…You want to kill people?"

"I want to make the world a better place," Leonie keeps smiling. "Fight bad guys and make life-long friendships with people who have my back!"

She's still at the age this works. Jeralt told her to use it to her advantage if she were going to sell her skills for coin. Told her not to bring up his name; he already has quite the tab in too many taverns. An eager kid whose gender is undetermined at first glance and first sound, who's not nearly close to her max 5'5" in height, fits right in to get amused glances from the fighters in the room. After a minor grilling, the bartender lets her a glance at the bounties for animal hides in the area.

Funnily enough, not even one is for deer. The several pages list things from toads to panthers, but no buck antlers or fawns like she expected a noble from the Alliance to be after. Then again, none of these requests are from the nobles. She brings it up, like Jeralt suggested if nothing was there.

That's when the bartender – who must be amused by her; sees she wears the sigil meaning she's a Gloucester citizen – shows her the bounty list. It's the only one the nobles ever pass around, according to the man. He doesn't show her pictures, but there's a list of last names Leonie hungrily tries to memorize.

Right there, in the unassuming upper middle, is the name Riegan. It triggers something in her that rears up, that shouts_, f**king called it_ and echoes in her head. A bit of information she _knows_ she's forgotten, but can't place a finger on.

"Leonie!" her father calls, having finished deals with their newest clients. _Probably asking for squirrel_. "We're leaving!"

"Coming!" she replies. Her best thanks and goodbyes go sweetly to the bartender, who laughs at her for his farewell. Her mask doesn't change, even as they step into the busy streets.

That bounty Gloucester's set could have paid for her tuition several times over. Her opinion hasn't changed, the man's is a terrible ruler. He can pay for that, but not for her village restoration. She mentally calls him a few more names, not to let it the anger show in front of those who practically worship him.

No need to begin a slaughter.

**4**.

Her first time entering a new village hadn't been too extraordinary until she was faced with the chilling feeling of bonds sliding over her. Reaching and flowing around her. So many people with Crests, she almost gagged at being able to taste the thickness to the air.

Her village is twenty adults. This one is over fifty, not including the merchants or passersby. It's simple enough to keep herself invisible to them, their eyes smoothly gliding right over her as if she were an unassuming prop. Like a tree. An hour into her stay, she's fine and doing her best to ignore the ghostly trails over her skin. What Leonie is more worried about is dealing with this at the Monastery. Still plenty of years to go, but she'll need to travel to other villages more often to get used to it all.

She plots and plans while packing up. Repeats to herself which animals will snag her the most coin, what names she'll need to remember in case of crossing paths of thieves or other murderers.

What is she forgetting about Riegan?

She asks her father on the way home, knowing that name had sounded familiar but unsure why. "Is there an important person named Riegan?"

Her father lightly, tightly, tells her _yes, but ask again at dinner_. When it's just the two of them, she does.

He straightens, anger slowly drawing into his seated position, "You've learned about the ten elites in your schooling, correct?" Leonie nods. "Riegan was one of them, and his descendant is currently the leader of the Leicester Alliance. A position that does not belong to him!"

_Oh no_, Leonie keeps her angel mask in place, tilting her head to try and signal confusion. _I never did check where his Crest bonds were, did I?_ "But I thought there were no leaders in the Alliance, dad. Isn't that the point?"

"That's what everyone says," her father sneers, showing a lot more life that she can ever remember him having. Maybe it's just a one-off thing. Maybe it's whatever Crest bonds that formed at the new village today. They've spent years in a place without Crests, after all. "But their ruling is practically law. They couldn't even do anything when Almyra was invading, and for what?! Talks of peace?! Oh, yah, those from Almyra really showed us what they thought of peace talks, didn't they?"

Leonie swears her brain has stopped working as her dad shovels back his food. This is not how she thought the day would go. What's worse, the few puzzle pieces are starting to come together. Thirteen years is a long time to go without refreshers, but it's hard toforget the gist of Claude's backstory. No wonder seeing the name rang a few alarm bells.

"If you're serious," her dad breaks her thoughts, startling her into looking up from her suddenly unappetizing soup, "about becoming a mercenary, or even just going to the Monastery for study, don't deal with anything House Riegan. They're a dying breed, rumor is the current heir will be the last."

Leonie curls her hands together, laced fingers squeezing as she smiles.

_Blink_.

_-pulls the knife from her belt, ducks under the table and stabs him-_

Blink.

"Of course, dad," Leonie lies. Pretends she doesn't imagine killing half the village on a daily basis. "You taught me better, after all."

_How easy it would be- that's not right, shouldn't be thinking about this- prey, all around- don't want to be a serial killer- don't like them, should just move along- not yet, but soon-_

Six more years, at least half the tuition.

_I wonder how my future year mates are doing._

**5**.

It's a jolt of remembrance, a shock, that has her releasing a blanket late at night to touch her throat.

Canon Leonie Pinelli had a special charm gifted to her by Jeralt before he left. Something that was only ever taken off after S Ranking the main character. An object so special that Leonie would knowingly wear it over a decade, keeping it at the base of her neck no matter what sting she had to use to wear it.

_What are the chances_, Leonie thinks, eyes narrowing as she draws the blanket up again, _that the charm protected her from other Crest bonds?_

How likely is it that she would have gotten the charm had she not thought to become invisible to the tethers?

How much of fate is still going forward, and does this mean she is playing into it even when she defies the little things?

_None of it matters until the Monastery._

She just has to keep believing that.

**6**.

Confident about the matrixes, the wordings and science written on the dirt around her, Leonie balls up the saliva in her mouth. Licks her thumb. Places the clear liquid on her rucksack, right on the circular marking just offset from the center. A small thumbprint appears on the stained button-like image. The teenager quickly steps back.

The print dissipates. Black reason magic crackles and flares, sparking all around the bag like a game of leapfrog. The whole thing is enveloped in darkness, and then it lets out a small burst of black sparkles. The bag doesn't look any different, still patchwork and malleable. Leonie picks it up, and it doesn't harm her. Lifts open the flap – a good sign – and carefully widens the drawstring top she'd sown together from old curtain fabric. It feels a bit stiffer than normal, but no signs of tampering. So far, so good.

It's dark inside the bag, no amount of light making a difference. Leonie picks up a rock to put in. No sound of hitting the bottom, no added weight.

She reaches a hand in, thinking about retrieving the rock. It's the only thing she grabs in the endless space, pulling it out no worse for wear. She grins, something real and ecstatic.

Pocket dimension storage. Leonie straps her rucksack back around her hips, carefully making sure the drawstring is closed and opening secured under the original flap. Then, she wipes away the evidence. Once she gets used to it, all she'll have to do is make sure it isn't destroyed while she's alive. It would _suck_ to be in the area when all her stuff pours back into reality, the protection wards better hold out for a lifetime.

But for now, she basks in the moment of making the impossible happen.

**7**.

For her fourteenth birthday, Leonie's father gifts her a brown, plain cloak that looks like something out of Red Riding Hood. This, however, comes with a warming charm, something that would have cost a hefty amount of gold.

"As thanks for all you've done," he smiles his thin, proud smile. "Happy birthday, Leonie."

She thanks him, tying the gift's string securely around her throat. A sigh leaves her as the warming charm starts up, powered by her ambient magic. She was born in August, the month known as Verdant Rain Moon, and already the nights have become cooler, the constant drizzle of rain finally beginning to halt. There are several places being hit worse, the seas in constant turmoil for most the month, but it is still miserable to hunt in. The cold likes to seep and latch onto bone.

Suffice to say, her birthday has never been a point of happiness for her in this life. Her gifts from her father have consisted of extra servings or a handful of old arrows. This is the nicest thing she's ever received.

Yet, she cannot tie emotion to it. The orange haired angle of the village cannot find the energy to care for their wellbeing. She's spent too long going hungry throughout her new life, being cold and teaching herself how to survive past the bounds of what should be a ghost town. Now that they are beginning to thrive, to make coin and interact with the outside world once again, they don't need her.

It cuts deep that she never found respect for any of them. Not for the innocent children, nor the weary adults. Leonie does not look at the cloak and think, _this was a gift from my dad_.

She thinks only, _this is a helpful piece of equipment_.

It leaves her a touch bitter that she feels so alone. No real attachments, no real importance. No one will rewind time when she dies.

At least she isn't being tortured. At least she won't grieve the death of anyone here. She isn't worth being used or manipulated; she's _weakweakweakweak_-

Leonie spends the next few days sleeping in the cave system she's explored over the existence of her new life. This way, she's free.

This way, she can remind herself why she still follows along with fate's plan. The specks of hope of finding friends is not smothered by the uneducated or liars who teach her village. Here, her father can't make snide remarks about the state of the world now that they are getting up-to-date gossip. The extremely biased educators cannot force the gospel of Seiros down her throat, invigorated by talking with the churchgoers in a village that has a place of worship. No one can spread racisms and prejudice if there's no one around.

She is fourteen and three days, living off of the food she can scavenge and few water pouches in her pocket dimension, when the rains completely stop. She is well rested and preparing to sneak back home that night, hoping to use the light of the full moon to guide her instead of the _night vision _buff, when she senses the call for help. _Senses_, because the forest suddenly rolls with power and even the pebble at a bottom of the river will feel the force of a tsunami. She doubles over against the cave wall, changing her view of the world quickly.

Golden-white layers everything like a mist. Flashes of the solid colour blink in between the black of the forest. Leonie startles as one flies past the entrance; she flicks back to the world of colour. A buck crashes through the underbrush, hurrying along with the rest. A doe hurries by next.

Like a rat to the Pied Piper, Leonie follows as well. She flicks back and forth between visions, the mist slowly pulling back to where it came like a tidal current. It doesn't pain her, doesn't even tickle. Only a gentle nudge around her while she sees the words for _help_ pass by in solid gold-white strands.

Then she hears the roar.

Leonie freezes at the inhuman sound, smiling involuntarily tugging at her lip. _Inappropriate smiler_, she scolds, not fighting it this time. She flicks the buffs on one by one. _Silence. Invisibility. Speed._

This is her first time facing a monster. The Giant Wolf roars again, too far gone to howl anymore. It is black in Crest vision, tearing through the gold oppressing it with ease. It kills the animals with one swipe, but that doesn't stop them from trying. Wolves, bears, even vultures dart in and out for attacks, all golden-white bonds around their hearts.

With a trilling cry, the golden deer rushes forward while it's distracted.

Leonie sucks in a sharp breath, fingers fumbling to pull open her bag for her bow. In Crest vision, the golden buck does not have bonds spilling from his bloodstream like humans with Crests do. Instead, his are concentrated over his heart, coming from the broken shard the organ has grown around.

The arrows clatter at her feet, Leonie stringing back one. She drops _Silence_ and _Invisibility_, muttering out a panicked, "_Strength, Accuracy, Shield Breaker_." Gathers her magic into her hands, through the wood and to the metal tip. "Fire Arrow."

She releases, picking up another and repeating before it's twenty feet away. The Giant Wolf howls as the attack does a direct hit on its final health bar, burning away some fur as it sticks out. Most of the animals retreated at the sight of fire, and the ones left get blown away by a dark pulse of magic, shredding the arrow. It turns to her, meeting several arrows head-on as it charges.

Unable to help it, the teenager lets out a crazed laugh through grinning lips. Around her, wind stirs as the power from the golden deer's Crest gathers near her best it can. Trying to heal her. She uses this advantage to summon, tweaking her element just a bit, "Lightening Arrow."

It hits between the eyes, stunning the monster. She and the golden deer call together, the animals in the forest rushing the monster. _Like a battalion_. _Like authority_.

Leonie gathers her things and climbs up a tree, away from the dying monster's line of sight. A few more hits, and a blinding attack from the golden deer. Leonie blinks away spots in time to see the monster dissipate into black reason magic, fading into the air. Then, stillness.

The golden buck makes the first call, a triumphed and mournful sound. The other animals echo, slowly breaking off and away to their own sections of the land. With eyes a little too aware, the golden deer begins for her tree when they're alone.

"No," Leonie grits out, dropping. She has an arrow drawn and pointed, herself a little crazed at the success of defeating something the size of a house. However, she refuses to let her guard down. The golden-white mist may be gone from the air, but that doesn't mean she's safe. Animals aren't supposed to have Crests, never mind shards of a Crest Stone in their chests. The golden deer stops. "Stay back."

He trills softly, head lowering.

_Speed_, Leonie refreshes her buff. _Silent feet. Danger sense._

She unhooks the arrow and runs in the same motion. The deer doesn't follow.

Still, she realizes just how truly small her territory is. How it's the one letting her hunt here. If it constantly flared its power like that, she'd have never returned.

Faced with the perfect object to test her theory on destroying Crest Stones, and she runs.

_Weak_.

_But the deer are not her prey. Not yet._

**8**.

Leonie does not see the golden deer again, but he is around. She can sense when it lets out small bits of power, looking for something – or someone – to add to his collection of followers. Her paranoia only gets worse with no safe place anymore. He rules the forest, the villagers are hounding her.

_When are you going to look for a significant other, Leonie? Have you thought about having kids, Leonie? There was a very cute merchant promising to come by, I can introduce you! Oh, Leonie, do you want me to teach you how to run a household?_

She signs her first contract to kill people at fifteen. That's not the important bit to her, that honor goes to the fact she gets to hold a real pen for the first time. Sure, it's a terrible excuse for a pen, but it feels a little like normalcy. Priorities may be a bit skewed, but Leonie knows she isn't a good person. The 'functioning' members of society aren't the ones who happily kill for coin, not even in this world of constant conflict.

It takes her a full night to pick off the nineteen bandits. She stores their belongings and gets a reward for opening the roads to merchants. Already the earnings for her Monastery fund are on the rise this year. It's an unfortunately nice pick-me-up from the constant stress wearing her down back in her village.

The first thing she does with her pay is buy two books and a few cheap pens. Once hidden in a clearing of dirt in the forest, she uses the matrix she's been desperate to apply. Even the presence of the hiding golden deer isn't enough to stop her glee. She's quick to flip open both pages after the matrices take hold, dropping a blob of ink on one page.

It appears on the other book's page as well. When she rips off the small corner of paper, the ink disappears from the other book.

Leonie can't resist the cackle.

It may have been fifteen years, she may not remember everything, but finally, she can write it all down.

**9**.

Jeralt had once told her, "There is a quota the Monastery uses to choose its full-time, certificate-aiming students every year."

"You said they picked us through a skills competition."

"That's the lie they tell everyone. Same as the assumption that there's always a spot open for at least one commoner per house."

She hadn't known any of this at the time, but with trade and gossip passing there's more and more people eager to tell stories of their time at the school.

"The truth is that they take in at least three minor Crests and one Crestless."

"And the other four slots?"

"Those usually go to the nobles, if there are any leftover. Major Crests get them if not."

She had understood the meaning at the time, her only real chance was to take the Crestless spot. Without a noble's recommendation, she has even less of a chance of getting in. If she doesn't demolish the training grounds daintily when the time comes, then she'll never stand a chance against whoever the Alliance will throw at the Monastery. Leonie turns sixteen and knows she could never bring herself to ask the landlord for his recommendation. She has the full tuition gathered - a pipedream once upon a time - and all that's left is to train.

She is nearing her max height and people can recognize her as female. No one beyond the villages she's already worked for would ever take her seriously, not with how string bean and lean she is. Barely any armour, too fresh-faced. All that's left in her time limit is to get some extra gold and training. _There is nothing else she can do._

She can't remember what's supposed to come between now and Sothis' awakening.

She dreads every minute of it. Loathes the small-town bigotry toiling away and winds up trekking through the forest most days to get away from it all. It would be so simple to run, but she can't take the chance of being away from the linchpin when it pulls.

Who knew that living again would be so hard?

**10**.

She had been a mile away when she saw the birds take flight. Heard the tail end of what could have been a scream. Bored out of her mind, Leonie shimmied down from her perch and ran – glided – across the forest floor. It had been maybe a handle of minutes by the time she reached the hill over cresting a road.

Three soldiers were down, another several trying to keep back the three Giant Wolves. There was a man bearing a moon-like symbol on his robes shooting arrows and shouting orders from atop a merchant cart with the same symbol, and one of the merchants throwing punches that could knock back the wolves a step.

They also all looked deeply exhausted and barely hanging in there. Leonie pulls out her bow and quiver and gets ready for some target practice. "_Strength. Accuracy. Shield Breaker. Refresh: Speed. Fire Magic Boost_. Fire Arrow."

Release.

The first Giant Wolf hit roars loudly as it gets an arrow to the eye. There's a startle from the humans, but it doesn't proceed into the second hit. The man on the cart turns, watching her shoot for a moment before returning to his fast-paced firing.

Leonie doesn't realize that in less than a minute, she's won them a battle. She's disappointed that her attack clearly isn't strong enough to deal the killing blows in one hit. She packs everything away, switching out weapons for a practice lance to keep just in case. Leonie sits and kicks her feet, waiting for them to leave so she can loot for meat; maybe see if there were any ores left by the monsters.

Only, they don't leave. Moon-guy waves her down, apparently annoying his people because he wants to say thanks. Leonie huffs a disinterested breath and climbs down, _Danger Sense_ on full alert.

"You're just a kid," blurts the merchant who was smacking monsters around. A woman several heads taller than Leonie and three times as thick and broad. A second merchant, male, smaller, and wearing a matching ring, fiddles with a book in his hands.

"I'm turning seventeen this year and legally have a mercenary licence," Leonie keeps her _I'm a sweet angel_ mask on. A great thing about her past life, she knows how to act emotions even if she never really feels them. She knows how to make a smile reach her eyes, even when she's pissed. She nods to the symbol on the cart. "Can I ask where you guys are from?"

The archer wearing the symbol looks over. His smile takes on a confused tint while the others look shocked. His green eyes are friendly when he looks at her, asking, "Have you never seen the symbol of House Riegan?"

It's then Leonie realizes she's standing with a bunch of idiots if they thought this little group could make it through Gloucester alive. Those wolves were probably plants, and she should get out of here before more come. But… she's been _so bored_. This could become some good training. "Nah, my village was pretty secluded until a few years ago. We just got put back on the map about a month ago. More importantly, why are you guys waving the House Riegan banner around? Don't you know that's what's making you targets?"

There's a lot of spluttering, but the leader calmly asks, "What do you mean?"

"I might be new to the whole village-communication thing, but even I know that everyone around here hates House Riegan." Leonie carefully puts the lance on her back, ignoring the more outrages exclamations. "Just saying, I wouldn't be surprised if you get more monsters or bandits or something sent after you."

"Do you hate us?" he asks, honestly curious by his expression.

"A person's a person," Leonie shrugs and begins walking to the spots of the defeated monsters. "You haven't done anything to me, so I have no reason to hate you."

"What are you doing?" he jogs after her, smile returning to his face. _Easy pleaser_.

"Looking for meat, coins, anything I can sell to pay for book fees."

"Oh? Are you in school?"

"I'm aiming to go to the Monastery," it's not like it hurts telling him this. Everyone else around knows, and they'll probably never see each other again. "Real expensive place. S'why I got into the mercenary business."

"That is really dangerous," he hums lightly, "I-"

"_Sir_," cuts in the woman merchant, "we really do need to be on our way, lest more come by nightfall."

He flips into commander mode. Leonie feels a smile tug on her face, a little bit more real. A part of her likes him, respects how he held ground during the attack. Seems like a nice guy.

"Take down all the markings of House Riegan," he demands, unhooking his own marked cape. _Smart, too. No shame in hiding his house_. Always a plus in her books. When he turns back to the teenager, he does soften a little, holding out a hand to assist her up. She hesitantly grabs it, having picked all her spoils. Notes that he doesn't have a Crest, seeing as he can look at her without dismissing her. "What's your name?"

"Leonie, sir."

"My name is Godfrey," he answers in kind. "Would you be able to escort us to the next town, or are you needing to return home?"

"I'll escort you," she jumps at the chance. "I need to check Mavi's job posting's anyway. They get a lot more business than the other villages." And she can always jog home within a day or two if need be. Worst she'll get is a light scolding for being longer than her usual three or four days.

"Come on the wagon with us, then." They have very different definitions of wagon. The cart is more like a carriage now that she sees it without the banners. "These are merchants who will be appraising a rare item for me. Luci, Mickael, this is Leonie."

The woman, Luci, squints in a distracted way, meaning she likely has some sort of Crest. Mickael holds out a hand to shake. "Thank you for your assistance."

"I was around." She shakes.

"So, Leonie," Godfrey smiles disarmingly. Her suspicion deepens until he asks, "mind telling us more about why we might have been targeted?"

With all her pent-up resentment towards Gloucester, she does so gladly.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to Chickenpotpie and ShadowWolf223 for reviewing! The support really means a lot!**

**I hope everyone has a fantastic day**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**1**.

By the time Godfrey finishes regaling the story of how they ended up so far south of Riegan's territory, Leonie is honestly surprised they're alive. Several bandit attacks, a young necromantic practitioner startled in a graveyard, three sperate cases of monsters appearing from nowhere, and a couple nighttime assassination attempts. According to him, they used to have a larger force when they began the journey, but no one expected this much resistance on their trek to the capital of Country Gloucester.

"I'm guessing all these troubles started just after you made it past the Great Bridge of Myrddin," Leonie winces, remembering the rumors. "The Lord of the area, Acheron, stirs up enough trouble for merchants going to Riegan. Flashing your country's symbol everywhere would have motivated up his people. Word gets around, and then…"

"We've got people hunting us down," Mickael sighs. "That was the only direct route between Duke Gloucester and the-"

"From my home," Godfrey cuts in. Leonie's been entertained by the stories and _very_ fancy arrows the apparent-noble cleans. The arrows more so than the stories. Some have his country's symbol engraved on them. If one got lost in this territory, it could easily be a catalyst for conflict. "If all this has been going on under Duke Riegan's nose, it does not bode well for the other minor plots surely afoot." He sighs, running a hand through chestnut hair. "He spends so much attention keeping peace between the roundtable, Church, and Almyrans that he forgets about the people sometimes."

"At least your home wasn't taken off the map when all outgoing trade died," Leonie drawls, smoothing her fingers over the training spear's shaft. There are a few chuckles thrown her way. "What?"

"No, no you're correct," Godfrey grins again. "I suppose I could have it worse. Let's talk about something lighter. You said you were going to apply to Garreg Mach Monastery? Are you thinking about becoming a knight?"

"I mean, it's a possibility," Leonie shrugs. "The goal right now is to get the mercenary church-approved certification. I'd like to see the world, get out of the village."

"You could stick with us," the leader proposes. Leonie snorts, amused and surprised. "What? It's a good plan. I take you back to Riegan with me, tell everyone you're training to be part of my guard, so you learn from the best. You go to the Monastery and if you decide you still want to be a mercenary, you go free."

"It sounds like a great plan," and _oh_, does she ever want to go along with it. Leonie tilts her head, shaking it and looking down at the weapon she supposedly has a strength in. "Too good to be true."

"Leonie." She looks up. He's frowning a bit, serious. A commander who looks old from facing too many mistakes. "You saved our lives; saved the Alliance a lot of grief if we had died here in Gloucester territory. I owe you a great debt."

"You owe me nothing," her mouth sets as anger flares. _Don't be brash, swallow the cold words. He's just trying to be nice._ "I was in the area and did what any decent person would have done. The monsters are a problem for everyone. Whatever debt is being paid now by this ride to Mavi Village." _If my village had known I saved you, they would have berated me at best._

He obviously doesn't think a simple ride is enough. She's too used to getting the minimum for her efforts. If anyone in Gloucester found out she was owed something by a noble from Riegan, she'd be crucified at worst. Godfrey looks out the front of the cart, catching sight of the village appearing as the stars begin to shine. She watches him carefully, as he's one of the few around to look and see her as a person.

Leonie cannot deviate from the plan now, no matter how tempting the offer. _Two more years_.

"If you don't like this place," he begins carefully, giving her a side-eye, "why do you stay?"

"No one will take me seriously without some certification," Leonie looks over to the merchants. Luci is keeping an eye out the back, completely turned away from Leonie. She has to be listening, but the Crest deems the teenager unimportant. Mickael is watching the orange haired teen closely. "The licence means squat outside of Gloucester territory. If I don't get into the top eight for classes when I'm nineteen, I can hang around for supplementary classes and take the mercenary class exam when I turn twenty."

Frustrated, his green eyes latch onto her orange ones, "Why not take my offer then?"

"You ever heard of the saying, 'the demon you know'?" Leonie's grin hurts. She likes this respectable idiot; not more than Jeralt and is very suspicious about why he's even asking to take her along, but the fact he doesn't belittle her or throw accusatory remarks around helps. She's so used to her village forcing opinions on her, of a deer stalking her through the forest, that having a _normal conversation_ is currently the highlight of her year. "We haven't even known each other a day. I don't know why you'd offer to train me, I'm not that good so..."

Godfrey jerks back, eyes widening in realization. At what, she isn't sure.

Mickael is frowning, "Heir-"

Godfrey quickly raises a hand to halt him. Even Luci turns around, seeing their leader shaking his head quickly.

Leonie leans back, rotating her spear between fingers on her lap. "So, you're an heir? Can't say I've ever met someone so high up the food chain before."

"Duke Gloucester hasn't stopped by your village?"

"Just. Put back on. The map. He hasn't shown since before I was born, from what I've been told. All the adults still love him, though."

"It happens," Heir Godfrey frowns. "But my father's still looking for someone with the family Crest, so I'm not going to be heir forever. We're almost at Mavi…" he smiles sheepishly. "Is there where we part or…"

"Or?"

"Do you want to come to Duke Gloucester's home with us?"

Leonie twitches, guard slowly coming up. He seems to be honest still. This group… probably couldn't survive another attack without some help. If Lord Acheron passed on their descriptions, then not even taking down the banner will help them escapes the fights to come. It's also really nice for her to be treated as a person with her own mind and opinions. While she doesn't want to be near, to possibly cave into the hopeful feelings and agree to follow him back to Riegan…

"I'll go with you to Capital Gloucester and that's it. You have to deal with the Duke by yourselves."

Godfrey grins and it's contagious enough that she slips back a real smile. At least she isn't bored anymore. Weirdly enough, she hasn't thought about stabbing anyone around her in a while. Maybe peeking at the hunter's board will fix that.

Maybe she's finally growing up.

_Is this what being wanted feels like?_ She's forgotten after all these years.

**2**.

It will take four days to travel to Capital Gloucester. Leonie already knows she won't be able leave without making sure Godfrey and his people make it out of the Duke's house, and so writes a letter for her father. A brief summary about how she'll be out longer, escorting a merchant who promises lots of gold. It will be a good chunk of her school supplies funds that she'll have to give up. Unfortunate, but two years to make it up. Leonie tries to convince herself that this is a vacation.

She'd rather a warm beach, sipping sugary drinks, but whatever. At least there are a lot of different weapons she can ooh and awe over.

"Why not take it?" Godfrey asks cheekily, watching her run fingers over a silver bow.

"No way," Leonie denies, not looking up. The string appears to be made of silk, _who even has money for that?_ "I don't have any of the materials to fix it if it breaks. Or the skill to use it. This is better in your company's capable hands."

"_Leonie_," he whines. Luci snorts at the front of the cart, steering the horses from beside her husband. "I have lots of bows back home. Let me give you one. Or! How about I buy you one at the next market. I believe you're at a good enough height for a longbow-"

He cuts off when her head snaps to the back of the carriage. Not even three hours out of Mavi and _Danger Sense_ is already ringing warning bells in her head.

"What's wrong?" he asks softer.

"We're being watched." She can't turn to Crest vision with two of Godfrey's cavaliers at their backs. "They're just keeping up with us for now. What do you want to do?"

He comes over to her bench, looking towards the thinning forestry. "Where can you see them?"

She can't see them, but points towards where she senses them. "There's at least two. One on either side. I'm not sure how they're keeping pace, but they're on the ground."

He makes an annoyed sound, moving back to his bench. "Nothing we can do until they act first." He whistles a sharp signal, but all Leonie can see happen is Luci tightening the reins. "Just keep an eye out, but don't stress too much about it, Leonie. We're all rested from the inn last night. By the way, where _did_ you sleep?"

A cave not too far away from the village. "Somewhere safe."

He hums, chuckling. Shakes his head. "Okay, so, take the bow?"

Leonie raises her eyebrows and pointedly, achingly, releases the beautiful tool. Pushes it away with her boot, internally clawing away at herself for getting dirt on _the precious_.

"You're stubborn," he sighs fondly. "Well, if you won't take my lances, swords, or bows, what about tomes?"

Leonie doesn't outwardly react, but her attention is solely on him. _Danger sense_ can ping all it wants, a chance to see written magic would make her day. "As much as I would love new reading material," the only books in their village are Fódlan's bibles. Leonie takes the words of Seiros with a shaker of salt, "I can't accept you trying to push tomes on me. Believe me, I know how much books cost." Blank notebooks are at most an eighth of the price of anything written.

"Yikes, so paranoid," he mockingly holds a hand to his chest. The other pulls out a fair-sized book. "No harm in taking a look, right?" Waves it in her face.

Leonie huffs and gently grasps it. There's no magic or power running through it, the title is _Crests of F__ó__dlan_. She flips open the first page and hungrily memorizes the image. It looks like a peacock feather or crying eye. _The Crest of Seiros_. Of course.

"Do you mind if I read this?" Leonie looks up, gentle wonder turning sharply to anger at his smug face. "Look, I'm not going to take anything-"

"No, no," he's quick to assure. "You just looked happy. Read it and give it back, it's fine. But if you want to keep it-"

"No thanks," Leonie settles back, one last glance out the open area where _Danger Sense_ is warning her. "I don't want anything," she lies. "It's just nice to see what's out there."

He has so much that he's just willing to give her. Her paranoia is at an all-time high trying to figure out his motive. Is it kidnapping? Does he only want to train her, tie her to his house in someway? Nothing in this life has been given to her without a price. A bow for her to be a hunter. Her freedom if she brings back food. Education in the form of learning the church's scripture.

Magic for energy.

"Thanks Godfrey," she says, eyes back on the open page. '_Also known as the Sky Dragon sign, people with the Crest of Seiros have a tendency to be open and kind to strangers in need.'_

Leonie lets out a harsh breath, hiding her snort. The later sentences about their protectiveness seem more inline with what she vaguely remembers of Jeralt, Edelgard, and Rhea. She resists the urge to flip until she finds the Crest of Riegan. A book should be read one page at a time, _no spoilers_.

**3**.

It takes five minutes after her _Danger Sense_ alarms increased to find and deal with the threats.

The company paid for Leonie to have her own room in the inn. It's rather touching, but this means she needs to find someone to help her clean up.

"What do I do with assassins?" Leonie asks.

Mickael sobers up from sleep fast, appraising the dark spots on her fingers. "Are they dead?"

"Yes."

He sighs. "Did you get any information out of them before you killed them?"

No, but she did loot and store everything but the clothing they wear. It's going to be awful trying to sort through the things later. She pulls out a scroll, handing it over.

Mickael reads it and swears. Leonie's vaguely wondering what's on it.

"We'll sort this out," he promises. "Where are the bodies?"

"In my room."

"Why?"

"Because it was better than leaving them on the roof…?"

The man groans, "Okay, just, don't, uh. Wait here." He pauses. "Were they the ones tailing us?"

"Yes."

"Good." Shuts the door in her face. Leonie blinks back the indignation, the urge to stab off the handle and push it open. She's mostly satisfied that the headache _Danger Sense_ was threatening is gone, but the interruption to her sleep cycle has brought forth again how little she cares about others. If Godfrey wasn't someone she respected, wasn't her current charge, she'd have let the intruders continue with their sneaking. Leonie didn't even go for them until they were closing in on his room, so it may be possible more people were killed.

She should probably get better at protecting more than her charge. Oh well, this whole vacation is about learning lessons.

**4**.

"How old were you," Godfrey sits across from her, magical tome in his lap left unread as he's been openly staring at Leonie's engrossed form the whole time. She's rereading the Crests of Fódlan again, not that anyone knows she's finished it, "when you first killed someone?"

"Six," she answers, turning the page. Not seeing the words but the vague memories of the time. "Bandits planned to loot my village. I dealt with it."

"You have me beat," he sighs, arms crossing behind his head. "Eight. First time an assassin made it to my room. Do you sleep with a knife, too?"

"Yah," she looks up at that, blinking until the world comes into focus. "Is that normal?"

"For people who know they're in danger, it usually is." He looks more confused than concerned. "When was the last time someone hugged you?"

"I was eight, won the archery competition in the village," turns back to her book, easier to hide her bitterness. "My father was so impressed he hugged me and told me he was proud."

"Does he not tell you now?"

"We've never really been close," _Crest of Gloucester, the Craft Dragon sign_. "Most I see of him is a dinner every few nights. His hunts are more of a guard patrol nowadays, and I'm out of the village whenever I can get away with it."

"…Leonie, do you realize how special you are?"

She sticks her fingers between the pages, lolling her head back against a crate to raise her eyebrows. Her smile is of a person trying to be funny, "You mean in an annoying way?"

"Not at all," he leans forward, closing the tome. "People like you only come along once or twice in a lifetime." She freezes, but before she can wonder if _he knows_, Godfrey continues. "Brave, smart, _educated_. Strong, talented. Creative. _Loyal_."

"Now you're pushing it," she keeps her grin firmly in place, hiding how cold she feels inside. "What have I done to demonstrate loyalty? And _smart_ and _educated_? Aren't those the same thing? And I'm definitely not strong-"

"_Leonie_."

"_Godfrey_," she mocks back. "Look, I know I'm weird. And I'm definitely not strong," _weakweakweak_, "just… well, creative. Like you said."

"Can other people in your village do what you do?"

"As far as I know? I mean, I do have the best shot and sort of taught myself some magic, but I can barely scrape together enough Faith for a heal and my reserves are low."

"Did you know most people will spend their lives studying magic and never learn a spell?" he raps on the cover. Leonie freezes at the information. "You're self taught. You can hit a monster's eye from fifty feet away on an incline while it's moving. You knew we were being followed before we did, and you have enough skill with a lance that you were confident facing us with a training weapon."

She averts her eyes. Shrugs when he keeps staring. "I had to become a hunter for my village. I had to be good at it to eat."

"…Why were you on the roof last night?"

"I like watching the stars," she half lies. A part of her will forever wonder where her first home is, if it's even been made or destroyed in the vast universe. "I enjoy finding the constellations. Had to learn them in case I ever got lost."

Godfrey cracks a ghost of a smile. "You do realize that's the second time you've saved my life this week."

"I'm sure you would have woken up and got them without me."

"Doesn't matter now," he flips open the tome, finally beginning his study. "What does matter is that this makes us friends. And as your friend, I'm free to give you gifts."

"Not if I can't reciprocate the price tag," Leonie drawls, trying not to smile. The idea of an older man – he's at least thirty – offering her his friendship gifts sounds creepy enough. She does have confidence that she can kill him if he tries anything, but a little part of her – the part that's an adult who yearns for decent conversation and a cup of coffee – hopes Godfrey is actually just a really nice person.

"Don't worry," he grins down at the pages. "It will be priceless."

Leonie bites down on her panicked noise. "Please don't give-up anything important."

**5**.

"There you are."

Leonie arches back just enough to see who'd come from behind her without pinging _Danger Sense_. She rolls her eyes at Godfrey, hugging the warm brown cloak tighter. "Shouldn't you be asleep."

"I always have trouble when it's a full moon." He lies down next to her on the roof. "Have you ever heard the myth about the Moons?"

She knows the scientific application behind it. "You mean how they used to start and end of days where the moon disappeared?"

Once upon a time, the golden-white moon must have been closer to the world. Leonie remembers all about shadows and a tidal-locked moon hanging over Earth. Fódlan's moon rotates, far enough and moving at speeds which mean the full and new moons last three days, taking forty-eight days to view the lunar cycle.

"Yes," he chuckles quietly. "My family's always been researching the night sky. I was hoping my gift to you could be a few stories."

"That's sounds fine," Leonie smiles gently, small and real towards the sky, "as long as I get to share a few."

"Of course. Have you made it to the Riegan Crest in the book?"

"Yes," a crescent moon, or a compass missing west. "Is there a reason it looks like a moon phase?"

"Only someone with the Riegan Crest could tell you that," Godfrey sounds tired admitting it, but soon jumps back to his excitable self. "Though, it got its name the Star Dragon sign because people with the Crest have been known to forewarn calamities. Since their predictions only ever happened at night, they assume it is the stars telling them of what's to come. Not everyone with this Crest can sense dangers, so it isn't a documented trait."

"_Just_ dangers?" _Will you know anything that's to come, Claude?_

"No one knows for sure," Godfrey smiles up to the stars, "but everyone with the Crest faces at least one calamity in their life. _That's_ well documented."

Leonie hums and points to a cluster of three bright stars. "Do you see the three different coloured ones making a triangle? They're known out here as the New Beginning stars, mostly because they shine brightest around the time the Monastery begins classes. The white star over the by the yellow one is known as the Clover Star, because it moves between the three stars in the shape of a clover. The legend says that whichever house colour has the Clover star closest to it will do better in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion."

_Will anyone know, or will I be alone in this too?_

**6**.

Three hours after their departure, Leonie cuts off _Heavyweight_ and throws herself in the back of the moving caravan.

Mickael looks up from appraising rare stones. "You have a lot of stamina."

She flashes a smile, panting and hurrying to pull out a water pouch. Magic is great, but such a hard toll on the body. Same with increased gravity. "Not much else to do between hunts but train."

"Do you still have energy to go against my knights?" Godfrey asks, smirking on top of a box of provisions. There are no towns between here and the capital, meaning they're stocked for two days and several hardworking adults. Leonie had chosen to run some of the way, stretch her legs before riding in the cramped area.

"Of course," else she'd have run the whole way to lunch. She misses those foil lined snacks of her old life; they were so easy to carry around and pull out when needed. She can't even pull an apple from her bag without it looking suspicious. "Does it matter what weapon I use?"

"Sword or spear," he shrugs. "Though, I want to go over some archery tips with you later."

"Sure thing," her only archery teacher has been her father. There's bound to be some bad habits that need to go.

Lunch comes around and there's an achingly familiar scene that happens every time Leonie steps into a village. The several guards Godfrey has remaining for the journey all have Crests, and with the bonds going around her they don't ever focus on her. They know who she is, could probably even say where she is, but there's no attention placed on her person. No real, mental acknowledgement.

Against her targets, it's a great skill. Attacks miss a lot because people with Crests struggle to focus on her, to dedicate effort into _seeing_ her.

She drops the ward on her bathroom break. No cheats against the armoured foes, don't drop more hints to Godfrey and Mickael about her little ability. Leonie shuts off all her buffs, until the only magic running on her is the wall of metaphysical force pushing the Crest threads away.

Now, everyone can _see_ her.

**7**.

It's annoying fighting around Crests, but she's practiced before. Even hunted with the golden deer actively pressing on her. These are trained knights, with more fighting experience then she'll probably see before arriving at Garreg Mach. She wins the first round because they underestimate her. Wins the second because reason magic has done a good job of leaving her skin more durable. Wins the third because her opponent uses a weapon Leonie knows is several hits away from breaking; she know the weak spot having spent an hour in the cart trying to fix it.

Wins the fourth because that voice in her head, telling her she's _weak_, has long disappeared to the bloodlust. There is no emotion besides a serious _thrill_. A logical, calculating mind that can guess all the moves her opponent is about to take. Crisp, clear focus of the world that has nothing to do with magic or buffs.

An addicting adrenaline rush that comes with close-range combat. She never realized how bad it could get, until her opponent is on the ground and Leonie is calmly imagining all the easy ways to _end it_.

The teen slowly pulls the training lance away, reaching out a hand to help them up. Leonie looks like an angel, thanking them for the praise and tips and fights. She declines the next spar, claiming she's tired herself out. Walks over to the bare make-shift archery range to wrangle in the last of her fixation.

_It would be so easy to_\- Release. _First time they talked to me all trip_\- Release. _I am a person. I am real-_ Release. _Kill them before they have a chance to hurt me_\- Release.

_They are people too_. Release. _Families, friends. A life to go back to_. Release. _I can't kill everyone who opposes me._ Release. _I am more than some kind of terminator_. Release.

It sucks that killing is the only think to really make her feel true, strong emotions. Even if it is a placebo from the adrenaline.

"Can I show you something?" Godfrey asks, taking up a stance next to her. Leonie lowers her arms, bow and arrow hanging. He takes aim at the target next to her arrow littered one. "Watch this."

He releases. Perfect bullseye. Leonie blinks, "Okay, so w-"

Looks at the fresh arrow in his hand. Looks to the target. _Empty target_.

"How did you do that?" Leonie feels her eyes going wide.

He laughs, "First thing they teach you at Garreg Mach. Of course, nobles usually teach it to their children once their magic is developed enough. I don't think you'll have a problem with the Return charm, though."

"Does it work on lances too?"

"Javelins, boomerangs, anything. If you can throw it, you can return it."

It takes most of lunch, but Leonie coos the moment her arrows start returning to her.

Godfrey doesn't give her more than a side-eye at the odd behaviour. She wonders if he's used to that quirk of hers, or just learning to ignore it.

**8**.

They can't make it one day without running into trouble. Leonie's having second thoughts about letting these people return to Country of Riegan without her assistance. She easily slips around the night watch, _Silence_ being a wonderful spell no one ever seems to use on themselves. It doesn't only silence one's voice, but every noise they make. No cracking branches or rustling leaves, no sounds of clothing rubbing, or an arrow being drawn.

_Invisibility_ hides everything being touched, though lighting things on fire does cause attention to the random flame in midair. The man in dark robes trying to control the Giant Birds loses focus at the flaming arrow shot his way. The birds scream awful, nail-chalkboard sounds that would make the faint of heart tremble for a turn. Leonie fears nothing as she shoots them before making quick work of the dying man.

There is only silence as she picks through the leftovers. A lucky drop of ore and feathers. The man has a few possessions, the fair bit of gold being overshadowed by the broken glass vials. Such a crafted item is expensive and not normally found on the streets, meaning he is working for someone with connections or he was important.

Nothing she can do about it now. The forest creatures can have him, she's got a camp to sneak back to. Hopefully Godfrey and Mickael are heavy sleepers.

**9**.

With her legs wrapped securely on a branch, Leonie tries to ignore the blood rushing to her head and takes aim.

_Claude makes this look so easy._

Even with _Accuracy, Laser Pointer, Eagle Eye, Straight Shot_, and _Zero Turbulence_, Leonie can't hit a bullseye upside-down. It's way too much magic to be using at once, so all she has going when she attempts this is the Crest avoiding ward. She is much better than when she learned how to use the bow upright but learning to shoot with gravity sending blood to her head is like_ learning to walk_ _upside-down_.

"What are you humming?" Godfrey comes over just as she curses, arrow returning to her hand backwards.

A bad habit from last life, when a song's repeating in her head she just needs to get it out. "I didn't realize I was," Leonie grits out, back to aiming.

Release.

He raises an eyebrow but says nothing about the wide shot. She's about to aim again when he walks in front, "Your face is all red."

_I have orange hair, what did you expect?_ "I know."

"Why do you want to shoot upside?"

"It's the principal of it," Leonie sighs, dropping her weapon. He steps back, she swings up and carefully lowers down. The blood rushing from her face makes everything woozy. "Is it almost time to go?"

"Yah, we're just packing up now." He hands her her things. "Should be at Capital Gloucester in the afternoon."

"Huzzah," Leonie slaps her cheeks. "Okay, I'm good. Are you prepared to meet with the Duke?"

"I'll be fine," he waves off her worry. It just makes her more paranoid for things to go wrong. He lights up with a sudden idea. "But hey, if I found someone to teach you upside-down shooting, would you think about joining my knights?"

"Not happening." _Where would he even find someone specialized in it?_

"Ah, still had to try. We only have a few more hours to convince you."

"Oh joy."

**10**.

Leonie hadn't been expecting much, which means she's grudgingly impressed at the sight of Capital Gloucester. The walls are a fair size to defend with the city, not too high to look intimidating but well staffed. The place shows it wasn't made in mind with keeping others out, but to spread business. The closer they are, the more details Leonie can spot with _Eagle Eye_. They pass under beautiful limestone arches on the road to the capital, rare ores glistening at the peaks with protections meant to kill all who disturb the stonework. This type of warding is an art lost to time, last seen when the ten elites were alive, if Mickael's excited observations are to be believed.

The teenager risks a few seconds, clambering to the top of the wagon and flickering to Crest sight. Violet blue and indigo strands blanket everything around, pulsing like waves. The feel of them brushing by gets stronger the closer they move, washing around her and over the travellers. Three of the knights are snapped up, bonds latching firmly around their fingers like webs, one even creeping up an arm.

Leonie blinks and looks up at the house – the _castle_ – where the Duke of Gloucester lives. The world seems too normal with proper colour back in her vision. The banners of Gloucester wave in the same colour as their Crest, but no one can see just how claimed this land is. Generations of people bound and loyal to the area, hooks in them deeper than they realize.

_Did Sothis know this would happen when her drops of blood created her children? Was her Crest the reason the people first started revering her as a Goddess?_

The questions won't help her continued survival, but it's nice to feel curious every now and then. What is important are the choices Leonie will have to pick for her next day or two in Capital Gloucester. There are several plans and decisions, some more reckless than others.

The safest for Leonie would be hanging back with the knights left to guard the supplies. The safest for Godfrey would be her following him to the meeting in secret.

The best use of her time and funds would be hanging around the market and getting some big paying jobs. Buy a few nice things to give her father so he won't make much noise when she returns. Something to give Godfrey in exchange for whatever pricey thing he'll try to slip her before they separate.

The most interesting would be finding the Crest Stone and Gloucester's Hero Relic.

The most dangerous, would be trying to destroy it.

* * *

**A/N:** **Sometimes, it's hard to feel strong knowing the protagonist will always do better. Most times, it isn't paranoia when magic's involved. **

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to ShadowWolf223, GlaresThatKill, and PhychedAnon for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**I hope everyone has a fantastic day**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**1**.

The Main Character has the powers of Sothis and videogame protagonism on their side, and they still begin their life at the Monastery with a D+ as their highest skill. With a sword. After living as a mercenary their whole life.

Leonie believes she's a D if she's being generous grading her strengthened skills. It's why she's being extra cautious following Godfrey to his meeting. Just to the doors. So long as no one on the streets tries to assassinate him, he should be fine with the Riegan Crest marking his clothes. The merchants not tied down by the violet blue and indigo of the capital will notice and spread rumors if he goes missing.

Leonie leaps to the next roof, _Silence_ erasing the noise her impact makes. She's careful not to move too much, too fast under _Invisibility_, it doesn't make light go through her. There's a distortion with motions, though only when looking straight on her edges. Under the setting sun, no one would do more than a doubletake.

She _really_ hopes Duke Gloucester doesn't use poison on the dinner. Leonie _hates_ poisonous food. Never a good way to detect it with without intense, gut destroying training or death.

_He can't risk killing Godfrey_, Leonie thinks to herself, nervous for her logic to be true_. It would start a war in the Alliance, and Gloucester would be demolished by Riegan and Goneril._

Like the artistic nature of the city, the country isn't ready for that type of escalation. It's why everything the Duke does stays within the country. His people are loyal solely to him, the travelling merchants see none of the real shady dealing going on. The worst they get are a few monsters or bandits to deter them towards other villages or countries.

_Godfrey better know better than to bring up what I said_, Leonie winces, ducking behind a chimney to watch the castle gates rise. _He doesn't have the advantage here._

After the noble, merchants, and guards have gone through, she does a running leap off the roof. _Sticky Fingers_ latches her to the castle wall, _Lightweight_ making it an easy climb with half the gravity. The guards pass, and then she throws herself on the walkway.

Down below, Godfrey is being greeted by a man who has more of a roundness than tone muscles. Not overfeeding, but from not keeping up with a usual exercise regime. As someone who continues to brag about his win during the Monastery's Battle of Eagle and Lion, he doesn't look ready to take on an army.

In fact, Duke Gloucester looks rather nervous as he greets Godfrey.

Leonie climbs in the shadows of the inner wall, less chance of the light giving away her position. She leaves the violet blue haired Duke to ramble on, only using Crest vision for a moment to ascertain he's the one with violet blue steel cords spreading out from his veins. _Major Crest of Gloucester_.

With that noted, the teenager playing Mission Impossible pulls herself along the wall. At a window just as the party moves inside, she swings in and summons enough magic for _Sticky Knees_. Leonie curses in her _Silence_, wordlessly snarling at the high ceiling of the castle.

"I'll have the cooks make us a feast!" Duke Gloucester rumbles as he guides the guests forward. Leonie pulls herself around a mural, very glad no one ever looks up. She rolls her eyes while Godfrey is giving his quiet reply; everyone always forgets to look up. "Yes, Lorenz will be joining us. He's grown much since you last came by, Godfrey."

Leonie flicks back and forth between Crest vision. Her eyes are beginning to strain, along with her arms, as she follows the indigo threads away from the group. They go around her like she is stone in a riverbed, wearing down her deflectors without trying. The pull and push of its wake are so much greater than the golden deer's stone.

The orange haired teen crawls her way _up_, in and out of the castle. By the time she reaches second level of the castle's church, Leonie collapses to the ground without a sound. Her arms are limp noodles from all the exercise, all the lost energy making her stomach rumble. When she finally catches her breath, the girl pulls out an apple, soundlessly chewing while she sits at the front row pew.

Down below are two guards making quiet conversation. Behind them, resting on the alter under a glass casing, is a staff with five points coming out the top, looking like a hand. At the center of the staff's swirl is a burgundy stone. According to _Crests of Fódlan_, the legendary staff of House Gloucester is known as Thyrsus.

According to old and mostly forgotten memories of a past life, it is made of blood and bone. It was once a walking, talking person, and now all that remains of their conscious is the Crest Stone beating and bleeding indigo into the Crest vision air. In the strands, unreadable sigils weave before being trapped by the glass, unable to reach out to the guards.

Gloucester's Hero Relic. It still lives, blanketing the land and pulling in all it can. The moment she leans over the railing, it _sees_ her.

It _focuses_.

**2**.

Leonie had known her decision before she sat in the pew.

She had _known_ the moment she realized _she'd_ being going to _Capital Gloucester_. The teachers in Sauin love talking all about all the wonderful thing the Ten Elites did. Seiros shoved the lies in the scripture and to a bunch of thirsty, Crestless, isolated men and woman, it's a lovely dream to think about a future as part of a Major Crest household. In the dream, all their problems would be gone. Crest bearers are the most important people in the land, after all. The words of Seiros are gospel and sung throughout Fódlan, those blessed with Crests are chosen by the Goddess.

Leonie's dreams are about breaking fate. The one, single moment she's written nearly a book in theories and plots. A hyperfixation in its own right: how can Jeralt survive?

The easy answer, _kill Kyrona_, has three difficult follow-ups. What can kill an Agarthan? How can someone get around the Agarthan's time travel? How is it possible Jeralt won't turn into a beast when Seiros is weakened?

That last follow-up in particular is an itch that cannot be scratched. Leonie would love to solve all her problems with violence – one of the few things in this life that allow her to feel – but killing Seiros would do more harm than good to everyone and everything. The woman has too many fingers in pies, too many devout that would hunt the assassin down. Leonie would like to be alive as long as possible.

Which leads back to the only epicenter she can really, truly effect. A point in time where things go from bad to worse: how can Jeralt survive?

_What can kill an Agarthan? _Destroy their mockery Crest Stone. Leonie believes she knows how to do that, but testing it is a whole other matter. Plot-wise, her options of test subjects are the librarian, Monica, and Edelgard's uncle. Assuming the Mock Stones are weaker than real Crest Stones opens up the possibility of targeting Sothis' children. Attempt to destroy real Crest Stones as a test, like the one in the Gloucester's Hero Relic.

Leonie knew her decision before settling on Godfrey's cart the first time. Accepting it is the hard part.

…_A lot can happen in two years_.

_New Leonie_ can barely remember the finer details, but she remembers the first few missions. For the price of stealing a Hero's Relic, the Church of Seiros sent a young man – sent his friends and year mates – to kill his older brother. Foul relationship or not, the death warrant went out the moment the Relic was stolen, and teenagers were tasked with it. Stealing a Relic now, when Riegan and Gloucester representatives are meeting, could cause a war in the Alliance. If the Church of Seiros found out, they could wipe out the Leicester Alliance in their quest to retrieve it.

If the Crest Stone of Thyrsus were to be purposefully destroyed, there is no qualm that war and decimation will follow. There is a reason Those Who Slither in the Dark do not go after Crest Stones directly.

There is a reason Leonie does not stand up, make a bow of hard light, and attempt to destroy the weapon now. She decided long ago that testing the durability of Crest Stones isn't worth the consequences before the future she knows comes knocking. It isn't worth testing to see if the Agarthans will come after her, rewinding time to find her before she crushes the stone.

If anyone learns who kills Monica, it will be the end. A lot can happen in two years, survival is key. If this all is a never-ending time loop set up by the Agarthans to stop Byleth, Leonie cannot give anything away.

So she decides looking at the threads is all she'll do. Get a taste of what she'll face at the Monastery. Don't take Godfrey's offer, wait until Sothis awakens to begin any sort of meaningful butterfly effect. It is on the pew that Leonie accepts making waves now, with no allies and being so weak, is a terrible idea, no matter how bored she'll be as she waits.

Unfortunately, it seems Thyrsus does not have her patience.

**3**.

The apple drops to the floor with a small _thud_. The guards don't hear it, too busy talking with one another. Leonie doesn't hear it, her intangible screams _oh so loud_ in her head. She hugs herself, face contorting into pain as she _pushes back_.

Thyrsus puts all attention on her, doubling efforts as she blocks the probing cords. Leonie feels like she's drowning, indigo submerging her in its prickling irritation. Broken rainbow threads swirl as first the diverting ward drops. The teen buries her face in her legs, muffling her whine as _Silence_ goes next. She pushes back, trying to make a bubble so she can _focus_. The irritation leaves, for a few seconds she can breathe, and then _Invisibility_ shuts off.

The indigo vanishes.

A deep breath, Leonie waits. The attention is still on her, but the _focus_ is not. _Silence_ goes on, then the diverting ward. Slowly pulling back the bubble of outward force, raising her head to look through the railing bars. The guards haven't looked behind or up, Thyrsus is still in the glass casing. When the blocker goes, she is left with the gentle feeling of waves moving around her. Leonie stays afloat.

_Invisibility_ comes back on. The probing begins again, only not as intense. A thread of indigo skirts around the diverter, trying to wrap around her body. Trying to ascertain where she is. Leonie slowly picks up her apple, hesitant in every move. She fiddles with it, focusing on how unhygienic it is rather than the thread slipping around her, trying to pull her, trying to bond.

_This was a mistake_, Leonie thinks, centering herself. Lesson learned. Crest Stones can still see her, even if those with Crests cannot. The golden deer was not a fluke; it's much worse when the Stones take notice. The Monastery is going to be awful.

-_weakweakweak_-

She's only human. There's a long way to go before she can fight dragons.

Leonie stands, a few more indigo strands appearing as the first slides off her. It tries to tie the power into knots around her, but she just removes it over her head or kicks it off her feet. Without her in sight, crawling out the window, it struggles to find her until it no longer can. Her hair stands on end as an almost unnoticeable feeling running through the land. Leonie climbs up to the detailed roof above the church, sitting back on a popular bird's alcove. They can't see her, a few scattering as a bitten apple appears from nowhere. With a last bit of strength, Leonie jumps and climbs a different tower.

There are voices coming from it, nothing clear until she sits next to a too high stained-glass window. The sunset before her, Leonie sneaks a peek while summoning another apple from her bag.

Four females, one male, all sipping tea. The ladies simpering, the noble with a rose puffing his skinny chest in pride.

_What a day_, Leonie mouths, turning back to rest against the wall. She bites and looks out in Crest vision. The indigo around the church tower is much more prominent than the violet blue, riled up by the surprise appearance. She'd never thought she'd miss her Crestless village, does not look forward to living in a place where Crest Stones walk around and rest in tombs.

The easy solution would be to start forming bonds, but Leonie truly has no interest in that. There's no one she'd throw her life away for, no one she'd want wrapping threads around her heart or appendages like puppet stings. Even if it means staying the emotional range of a teaspoon, she refuses to be _weak_ to someone.

Two years to build up resistance, but what can stop the power of a Crest Stone?

**4**.

Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. Heir to the Country of Gloucester. Future student of the Golden Deer house.

A noble. Minor Crest of Gloucester. He is ten months younger than Leonie and, if she remembers correctly, he is a threat to the Alliance's stability. Spent too long under his father's thumb, and yet also disagrees with how most nobles act. After listening to the ladies talk with him, Leonie thinks she knows why.

They are his teachers, mentors, and suitors all in one. The only real conversation he likely gets all day. They inflate his ego, telling him how wonderful he is. How they're impressed with him and his accomplishments. _You are gorgeous_, they say.

Leonie can't see him well through the stained-glass, so she can't tell.

_I think a real noble is someone who cares for the people_, is the summary of what they slip to him. They manipulate him, but with all the praise he can't see through the webs. Each woman has a Crest, each a different colour. They are connected not to Lorenz, but the indigo of Thyrsus. They teach him their gospel, explaining what they see as a good leader. They instill why he is above all others in his duty.

In the long run, it is a good plan to make him a leader for the people. Telling him why his bloodline needs to stay powerful, stay a pure noble line, is their selfishness. _New_ _Leonie_ cannot dislike this boy at the moment, not when she doesn't know him. She sees how few bonds he has coming out of his wispy Crest blood and cannot pity him. He was a child in County of Gloucester when she was a child, so Leonie cannot hate him. Not yet.

Like every person she's met, Leonie puts no stock, no _hope_, in him. Another person she's passed by. It would be nice to be on friendly terms in the future, but they are from very different worlds and want very different things. He is another side character, there is only one story where the hands of time might be turned back for him.

The only reason Leonie knows his full name is because everyone in Gloucester does. The Duke and Heir are just about royalty in the eyes of their commoners. They can do no wrong.

Bitterness is a muted emotion, but it is still there. If the choice came between Lorenz and Claude, Leonie would choose Claude in an instant. _Long live the king_.

**5**.

Godfrey raises his eyebrows as Leonie saunters towards the cart, "I thought you would have been gone already."

"Why?" she raises her eyebrows. "There's lots to do here. Got everything you needed?"

"Yep," the man smiles, glancing over to where Luci and Mickael are bickering on the best place to set the paintings. "Though, it almost didn't feel like Duke Gloucester was expecting me."

Leonie's eyes are drifting to the new knights. "Are they to help you home?"

"Yes, the Duke was kind enough to lend them to me until I reach the border."

"Right," she sighs, wondering who the stupid party is in this situation. Duke Gloucester for thinking this would work, or Godfrey for accepting them.

"It would have been rude to refuse."

So, Gloucester's fault. "Is it alright if I jog along? I'm heading that way for a job and then returning home." Letter and disguised money sent ahead of her arrival to her village, just in case.

"You can ride with me! Plenty of room on the crates!"

"I'll run for now, thanks."

The knights do not pay attention to her. The most they do is shift their horses slightly to avoid her. Most times, it seems as though the knights with violet blue wrapped around their hearts never see her. Leonie is unimportant by their Crests' standards, and then unimportant to their mission. They miss a lot, realizing she's there but never acknowledging it.

As they talk, she listens.

As they ride, she watches.

A thread curls up one of Godfrey's knights, like roots stretching over their arm. Up and important, spreading over the chest, until it swallows the heart. An hour later, Leonie throws herself in the moving vehicle. She calmly greets Godfrey, pulling out a piece of scrap paper and writing down everything she heard.

His face grows more sever, "Are you sure?"

"Unfortunately."

He breathes softly, showing the notes to Luci. The thick woman tenses, eyes widening, "We have to-"

"Do nothing," Godfrey cuts in. "Doomed if we fight, doomed if we don't."

"But…" Leonie spreads out her hands a little, "if we were near a village and monsters attacked…?"

Godfrey jerks his head to her, Luci still fuming over the note and not focusing. "I won't endanger-"

"Near enough the villagers can vouch for us defeating the monsters, far enough away it doesn't endanger them."

"…Where would we find monsters?"

"I am really good at tracking things. And running."

Godfrey does not look impressed. "Leonie-"

"Too late," she moves to the back opening, no guards taking the rear to block her. "Stay alive until tomorrow."

Jumps and rolls, springing to her feet and turning to wave as Godfrey's shocked face stares back. He doesn't shout, doesn't tell them to stop. Leonie gets to searching for high ambience of untapped reason magic in the air, those are usually a good sign for monsters.

**6**.

_Terrible idea._

Leonie ducks under a low branch, the roar of several beasts echoing as they lunge at her momentary slow step.

_Weakweakweak_-

_Runrunrun_-

Leonie hasn't slept enough for this craziness. Can't cast another _Speed_ because her already poor reaction time means struggling to see trees before they're in front of her. Everything is looking blurry, the Giant Beasts practically crawling over one another to get her. Those things are hungry, starving, sensing the magic pouring out of her with overuse.

The teenager breaks the treeline, heading for the sand. _Steady Ground_ causes a sickening howl from the closest Giant Wolf. A Giant Bird swoops down for her, but fast as she is Leonie dodges.

She sees the cart, bolts for it. Godfrey climbs on top, shouting for his men to attack the monsters coming towards them. The village guards stir but do not leave their posts as the monsters do not focus on them. The villagers begin screaming, far behind Leonie and the monsters, but still nothing turns to the people.

Leonie runs past the party, the monsters stalling and kept at bay by arrows and javelins. She slows enough to plant a foot, hopping and turning with the momentum. Skids back over dirt and sand, hands digging into the ground to steady. She looks up, Crest vision on.

Off.

_One… two…_

Leonie is a blur, darting around and jostling the traitorous knights into claws, beaks, or wild magic. Skids on the ground again. On. Off.

_Three... Four…_

Keeps it up, pausing only once to throw a training spear at a monster attacking Luci.

_Five… six…_

Gloucester's knights dead, Leonie pulls out a bow and gets to shooting.

_Seven… Eight…_

Then, silence as the bodies of monsters dissolve when wild reason magic bursts and evens out over the land.

_Nine… ten._

Release.

"What were you thinking?" Godfrey hisses, climbing down as the village guards finally begin coming over.

When Leonie looks up at him, she's faced with honest worry and concern. It throws her a bit, and drained as she is answers, "There's no proof?"

She doesn't think that's the end of it, but they can't let the villagers hear the real reason so many people died today. They already look displeased that Godfrey lived, Leonie knows they wouldn't accept the real answer.

**7**.

"I have a daughter," Godfrey admits, hours away from the Great Bridge of Myrddin. They really will split there; Leonie doesn't care to protect them through Riegan's territory as well. "She's a bit younger than you."

The teenager purses her lips. "Is that why you want me to go to Riegan?"

"No, no," he quickly shakes his head, running a hand through his chestnut hair. Green eyes look out the back, reminiscing. "She's… not there anymore. My father tried to force her and her mother out because they had no Crest. Hypocrite." His laugh isn't nice. "Neither do I nor my sister. A mercenary group saved them, helped them. Gave me a contact. I assist them when I can, but for all my father knows my daughter's whereabouts is unaccounted for. I'm… not even sure she knows I'm her father."

"…So?"

"So, that's why I asked you," he wryly grins. "You're not my daughter, but you remind me of her. She'll be going to Garreg Mach Monastery one day. Thought I would offer to help one of her potential classmates."

Leonie narrows her eyes. She's not angry so much as annoyed. No way would she give up all this work for some unknown person, she will not mess up her plans just to protect his daughter. Godfrey can find someone else to train. "No thanks."

"Well… the offer's always open."

Leonie doesn't roll her eyes, no matter how much she wants to. This vacation's only a blip in her new life. Something to look back on fondly but doesn't change the scheme of things. They'll likely never see each other again.

**8**.

Leonie waves on the edge of the bridge, watching them cross into Riegan territory.

_It was vaguely fun while it lasted._

She turns and begins the long jog home. If she stalls, taking requests from villages along the way, no one needs to know.

**9**.

A week after her return, school supplies funding gone and only a light scolding from her father, finds Leonie out in the deeper forest where the golden deer haunts her. She notices the moment it arrives but stays in Crest vision longer than the normal spot-and-avoid. There are words coming from its Crest piece. She squints, the writing seemingly old Fódlan style.

"You need…" she trails off, tilting her head. It says, '_You need to work on unarmed combat_.' "Well, yes, but-"

Then a bear bursts from the underbrush.

**10**.

Two weeks after her return, Leonie receives a letter from the 'rich merchant' she assisted. The envelope has her description and village, the first line of the message is '_To L_'. It details tips on how to store magic in tomes like mages learn how to in the Monastery, followed by a request that she write back any questions she has.

'_I still want to help you get in,'_ it reads. _'It would be nice to have someone as skilled as you help keep my territory safe.'_

It's signed '_G'_.

"He just wants to be able to request me as an escort again," Leonie lies to her father, hiding the words.

There's an address, apparently to his secondary home. The mail between countries gets intercepted a lot, _'so remember to write the number of the letter and the date you send it.'_

As terrible an idea as it is, to get attached, Leonie puts pen to paper. If he's willing to keep correspondence, then she'll take the breaks in the monotony and workouts when she can. If he's willing to train her, provide her with resources, then all the better.

'_Hello G'_

* * *

**A/N: Leonie should really be more curious about her potential friend's backstory. **

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to ShadowWolf223, PsychedAnon, and MiserableSOUL660 for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**I hope everyone has a fantastic day**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

**1**.

_3_

_I hope this letter finds you well, L,_

_You can attempt recreating a tomb with matrices, but they would have to be repeated on every page. There is no such thing as a pocket-tome because something so small would be unable to absorb enough magic for a fireball spell. _

_I highly suggest buying an actual tome._

_G_

After a bunch of high-paying jobs and a lot of killing, Leonie sits in a cave going over the instructions once more. She spent enough money to feed the village twice over on the stupid book in front of her. The reason magic is cloying to the touch, the elemental affiliation designed towards fire users. Magical tomes are a special blend of wards and magic absorbing paper. Supposedly, the more pages that become inked with black designs, the more reason magic stored. White ink for faith, but those are a whole other type of tome.

"Here we go," Leonie lifts the thing onto her lap. She opens the cover, closes her eyes, and _breathes_. Imagines the energy pouring down her arms, through her hands, and into the pages.

_Why does it smell like smoke?_

_**Bwoosh!**_

Leonie swears and throws the book, pages ignited like an alcoholic bonfire. The teen gapes as her hard-earned cash prize burns to ash. When the fire's out, she hesitantly crawls forward and pokes the grey.

Her cursing echoes through the cave, "-good for nothing, piece of-"

_3_

_Hope you got something pleasant out there to see, G,_

_I've decided not to pursue magic absorption until the Monastery. Recently, I've taken up wrestling to pass the time. If you have any tips about unarmed combat, or gauntlet training I'm really not picky, please send them. _

_We had a few mercenaries stop by the village the other day. The stories they told us were about how much sand is in Riegan. Is it true some temples have been buried under it?_

_Hope you're having more luck than I am._

_L_

**2**.

_8_

_L,_

_Games? There weren't many games I played in my childhood. Battle of the Eagle and Lion is a favourite one around here, though everyone uses sticks since they're not old enough to be trusted with a kitchen knife. Most of the games father played with my sister and I were to train us into heirship, some to try to pull the family's Crest from us._

_I'd recommend army board, but some boards and pieces can cost more then a tome. Be careful if you do go looking for a set. _

_Looking back, the educational games are never as fun as we'd hoped they would be._

_G_

"Leo_n-ie_!"

"What's wrong?" the seventeen years old smiles at the kids.

"Be on my team!"

"No, she's on _my_ team!"

"She was on your team last time!"

"Hold on," the teenager swings out her hands. "What game are you playing?"

"Colour coated!" the kids chime together.

_Must be teaching colour groups to the little ones_. "And I take it you two are the red and yellow captains?"

They puff up proudly, showing off their red and yellow badges. By terms of the rules, since Leonie has orange hair, she can be recruited by both. The older girl mocks a sigh, backhand to her forehead, "But why must we fight? Why can't reds and yellows and blues all work together?"

"That's not the point of the game, Leonie," the youngest one scolds her.

"Well," she throws out a wink, "why don't _we_ team up together against the blue?"

The kids look to each other. One holds up a finger, "Stay here."

Leonie watches, vaguely bemused as they hold a whispered conference between each other. Cheating a bit with _Heightened Hearing_, the teenager listens to how they're going to betray her after they take down the main blue fighters together.

She's so proud.

"Alright," Red Leader nods, coming back to shake her hand. "We'll work together."

Leonie kneels down to shake at even height. They fist bump to seal the deal.

When it's over, and Leonie is being dogpiled by the blues while the reds and yellows high-five with the blue leader about teaming up in the end, Leonie is just happy she taught them something.

The high-fives and fist bumps, not the backstabbing. Though she is proud they're growing up knowing how to make alliances and knowing when to cut ties.

It's a life skill they all need.

_10_

_G,_

_We had a bit of snow, if you can believe it. I know the Kingdom gets some every year, but the last time I saw snow I was digging for truffles when a herd of pronghorn stormed past. Never saw them again; no idea why they were even in the area. _

_Have you ever seen any odd animals before? _

_L_

**3**.

_14_

_L,_

_Are you still practising upside-down archery? I've found the perfect teacher if you ever decide to take my offer._

_G_

In Crest vision, the words, '_another miss'_ float on gold-white strands. Leonie blinks to see how off she was this time.

_Really off_.

"I know," the teenager groans, swapping her bow for a poorly stitched together quiver. "It's just hard to see." When everything not-Crest-strand is black. The trees, the ground, the target.

Herself.

Back to position, quiver switched with bow, Leonie closes her eyes. Breathes. She can't risk _Return_ when she can't see where they go. Crest bonds won't take on unimportant, unthinking objects. Background props are all black, are all void of colour and light, silhouettes that are deemed unworthy treasures to the Crests.

She's trying to learn how to see them, differentiate the void. Hit a target nearly blind. Even if it's not a skill she'll ever use, it is a challenge. If only she'd have better luck than throwing a javelin while hanging from a tree.

'_Missed again_.'

The unhelpful commentary of her stalker at least introduces a dual purpose. Not that he realizes, but Leonie's becoming better at ignoring his Crest's yearning to add her to his hoard. She's still working up the courage to ask about training that particular immunity, but it will have to be soon. She is seventeen, and the world will not wait.

Time is still moving forward; Leonie is still alive. At least she hasn't screwed up the future enough for a bounty on her head.

_15_

_G,_

_Still practicing. Going to you would take me at least twice as long to reach the Monastery and I don't enjoy backtracking. _

_In case you haven't heard, Heir Gloucester is in the Kingdom. Some fancy magic school; I bet they pay for their students' tomes. I don't understand the big deal, but every person I talk to seems to think it's an achievement. _

_Do you have any funny magic accident stories? I once frozen my hand to a tree. Full ice encasing. I do not recommend it._

_L_

**4**.

_21_

_L,_

_My nephew will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. His writing skills are rather poor, he grew up using a different language's alphabet, and I thought writing to you would help him learn faster. The second page is his letter, please excuse the shortness. I'm sure he will write more as his penmanship progresses. _

_It would be appreciated if your letters were simple to read, as he is also relearning to read our written language. I hope this letter finds you well._

_G_

1

L,

Hello.

C

_22_

_G,_

_I already like him better than you._

_How is everyone adjusting? Was the culture shock bad?_

_L_

1

Hi C,

If your uncle asks why I like you better, it is because you have yet to try bribing my loyalty.

L

**5**.

_22_

_L,_

_Harsh words, but fair enough. We are all fine here, thank you for asking. It has been nice having tea with my sister and teaching my nephew when I can. My father has unfortunately been monopolizing their time, so I try to make our moments together last. Do you have anyone you can share a good cup of tea with?_

_What does culture shock mean? I have never heard of it before._

_G_

A small fireball hovers over her upright palm, Leonie's other hand holding a hollowed-out stone around it. The makeshift flashlight reveals the secrets of the underground cave while she thinks about her responses to the letters.

What is culture shock? The disorientated feeling of being suddenly exposed to an unfamiliar environment, whether it be the culture, way of life, attitudes, or surroundings. To Leonie, it is most recently found in the anxiety, panic, loneliness, confusion, paranoia, and depression one feels when they open their eyes and breathe after having died, realizing they are a small person surrounded by strangers in a place that does not even recognize the past-life's first language. This is not the answer suitable for Godfrey's nephew's situation – at least, she hopes it's not – and it is scary to think that culture shock is not a known term.

What is culture shock? Moving to a different country with no prior experience or knowledge of the people's lifestyle.

What is culture shock? Being told all your life that killing is wrong, that _I think therefore I am_, that every living being deserves a chance, and then being given a weapon and told to hunt because there isn't enough food in the forest for a whole village to be vegetarians.

Culture shock is a lot of things. Standing on a busy street, hearing words but not understanding. From the clothing, to the beliefs, to the land itself. Culture is how groups express themselves, shock is the feeling. The unsettling, upsetting, or surprising. The reason the reborn cry.

Leonie's footsteps halt, palm light angled towards a crystalized stalagmite. Beyond it appears to be a cavern. There is a sound, almost like rainfall hitting puddles. She moves towards it, fingers brushing on the shiny stones that a part of her yearns to make into a weapon. Knives, swords, lance or arrow heads. She still hasn't figured out the mechanics of gauntlets, and honestly her own two hands are fine enough with magic and buffs.

…_maybe rebirth is more trauma then shock_. Leonie can't bring herself to expand her small range of emotions, not with what's to come. Everyone around her will have enough emotional turmoil to deal with without her added two cents. She does miss real happiness, though. Even the chocolate pseudo-effect would be nice, but at this point it's hard to say whether it will deliver migraines from the chemicals it releases.

Leonie misses a lot of things, but that wouldn't be a good reply either.

She halts at the edge of a yawning cavern, light reflecting over stones who have never experienced the full effect of light particles and waves before. It brightens the area considerably, the lake in the center appearing grey against the faint sandy brown edges. Leonie breathes sharply, watching the top ripple in splashes.

"Fish," she hisses, taking one step after another.

Old, dark dwelling lifeforms sustain the ecosystem, rock bottom moss glowing in the dark when the palm light goes out. The fish range all sizes, small ones leaping out and darting through cracks in the walls. Larger fish look at her before slowly moving on. There seems to be coral reefs scattered throughout, closer to the center while a river quietly runs in and out of the lake with smoothed stones at the bottom.

Leonie _Water Walk_s the shore, easily staying on top of the barely there waves. The magic comes easily here, she barely has to use any of her own. Gets the ward on the second try, even. This darkness isn't cloying, condensing, or making her twitch. This feels safe, no judgement necessary.

She'll teach herself how to fish, may even be able to store them away for future meals. Leonie doesn't want to tip the balance. There is an overabundance in the lake, only the medium sized fish being the largest to escape. Maybe it won't ruin itself with her interference.

The belief should be enough, but for the first time Leonie truly hopes – _prays_ – that this place will survive her visits.

_2_

_Hi L,_

_I will be sure to try when I have something to bribe you with. _

_How are you?_

_C_

**6**.

_24_

_L,_

_Thank you for explaining culture shock. It has given us a new perspective with how my nephew is coping and I think we can help him better adapt. _

_How have things been with you? You mentioned in your last letter that your faith magic is beginning to come along? I still recommend having a tome to store magic, it's harder to have faith or reason working properly in the middle of a battle. _

_We have had a few colts born recently. I was hoping for a filly out of one of them, but it happens sometimes. We may begin selling them in a few months, if you want first claim let me know. You would have to come out here to see them, but I am sure you can make it before the other bidders appear. _

_If staying on the ground isn't your thing, our wyvern breeders tell us the clutch should be all hatched by the new year. My sister is a great flyer, I'm sure she would love to teach you. Why not give it a chance?_

_G_

Leonie snorts midway through Godfrey's letter. She shakes her head, glancing out the window of the pub. The rains continue to fall without end. Happy birthday to her.

Once the new school year begins, it will be time to send in her application. She can't put off the last bit of training anymore.

But first, the pocket change and essay revisions. Commoners must write at least three pages on why they support the Church of Seiros and want to become knights. Leonie is writing sheer bull.

_3_

_Hey L,_

_Only fine? Well, the weather has not changed much here. My uncle has allowed me to go hunting with him, not by flying though. Only on horseback. I do enjoy riding but would like to do it when I feel like it._

_To answer your question, yes, I am eating. The food can be very different here, but I am getting used to it._

_My turn: what is the most interesting thing you have ever hunted?_

_C_

**7.**

_8_

_Friendliest of greetings, L,_

_What a fine day it is for me. The sun is shining, and no one has tried to kill me in a week. Of course, now that I have jinxed it with this letter, I'll be sure to tell you all about how I saved the day in my next one. _

_The poetry books here are all so odd. The structure and timing are all over the place, especially in the church hymns. I guess you're used to them. It was the literature I was most excited for, if you know of any books with organized poetry verses please send help. I'm drowning in awkward pauses. _

_Can you tell I've been busy trying to avoid my problems?_

_Your favourite,_

_C_

Like when the Emperor of the Adrestian Empire lost his power, the change in heirship to House of Riegan is not something missed. The new heir will one day take over the roundtable, be the representative and face of the Leicester Alliance for many. All peace talks with other nations go through them, and only by committing the murder of the Archbishop or the end of the Riegan bloodline would it be enough to remove House of Riegan from that power.

The new heir's name is Claude von Riegan. He holds the Crest of Riegan and will be the future leader of the Golden Deer house at Garreg Mach Monastery next year, though that last bit has yet to be announced. Leonie doesn't remember hearing about Riegan being in turmoil as they looked for an heir, would have thought that'd be something the people of Gloucester would have latched onto, but maybe it was something more commonly known by nobles or political players than the people of Fódlan. There is a lot in the background she does not have privilege to see, not being a Goddess or Main Character.

What she does know, that only a handful are likely ever in-the-know about, is that Claude's biological father is the King of Almyra. Claude is heir to two peoples, both of which would like to see the other dead or conquered.

Edelgard has her tortured backstory, a future of war.

Dimitri has the history of his loved ones slaughtered, a future of hatred.

Rhea has the past, unhelpful to the future.

Byleth has The Beginning, and the end.

Edelgard has Hubert.

Dimitri has Dedue.

Rhea has Seteth and Flayn, Catherine and Cyril.

Byleth has their students and a voice in their head.

Claude's future is in flex. He could have no one.

Leonie sends her application three times to make sure it makes it to the Monastery. At the very least, she'll make sure Claude has her until the end of the Fódlan year, even if he doesn't want her.

_8_

_Howdy C,_

_The poetry in F__ó__dlan is terrible. I'll even settle for something that rhymes if there's no structed stanza in any of the lessons. I made up and taught the kids of my village most of our nursery rhymes so they could have some fun with poetry and singing. The church songs are not my forte. _

_I can't recommend you any books since, again, I taught my village anything resembling creative poetry. If you want to throw poetry at me, I'm receptive to it. Be warned if you ask for something, mine mostly go along the lines of: _

Bottle of ink, ready the mail,

Why is paper never on sale

_So don't. Ask._

_When your problems are assassins, I'd say keep avoiding them. Looking forward to hearing about your very heroic fight for your life. I am really hoping you send a letter before this gets to you. You know, since you've just causally admitted you've been targeted by assassins before. _

_If I have to hunt down your killers, there better be money involved._

_A very worried L_

**8.**

_11_

_Have you ever repeated mistakes L,_

_I find myself very interested in F__ó__dlan's history. I have yet to find a book in the family's library that explains history outside of religion. By the Imperial Calendar, F__ó__dlan is over a millennium old. If history is correct, the years only began once Seiros granted ruling right to the first emperor. What happened before? Why is there no history when there had to have been something before Seiros?_

_If this is a difficult topic for you, I will not bring it up again. Besides history lessons, I've been playing with the wyvern brood. They aren't ready for flight training, too small still, but it's been nice playing with them before their talons grow in._

_Have you ever trained animals? Any tips for a newbie?_

_Having my fingers nipped by baby wyverns,_

_C_

In the clearing where the golden deer once lead a charge against a monstrous wolf, Leonie pauses. The magic in the air is even, leveled, with no chance of increasing unless tampered with. She has no idea how monsters are formed, and really isn't sure she wants to find out.

All Leonie needs to figure out are the weak spots.

"I need your help," the teenager speaks to the open air. The interest peaks, but he doesn't show himself.

The Crest, though, feels like it's everywhere.

_11_

_No poem this time, C?_

_It doesn't offend me. I'm interested in history too, but I only like learning it so I don't repeat mistakes. Letters are not really the place to talk about these kinds of things. Be careful._

_I wish I could see a wyvern brood. We don't even get any pegasus out my way, so I'm stuck on the ground for the foreseeable future. I haven't trained any animals myself, but I've heard the number one trade secret is to not show fear. Good luck with that._

_Unfortunately, I don't know much about F__ó__dlan's history. What are the highlights you've read about?_

_Woefully undereducated,_

_L_

**9**.

_19_

_Hark L,_

The moon appears after the rains,

Future brightens on the horizon.

On the turbulent winds,

Steady are the wyvern.

For who am I to hold them back?

_Okay, okay, not my best work, but you get the point. I am still not allowed to ride one. It's like they think I'm going to run away with their highly trained mounts or something._

_They say you can't catch a rainbow, but I still would love to try again._

_Anyways, now that letters are being sent once more, how have you been? I've been bored out of my mind with lessons and being cooped up inside. It's not like I'm going to need half of this stuff anyways. All I need to know is what spoon to not use so I don't accidently propose marriage. Easy, right? Well, did you know three different dessert spoons can say that depending on where they're placed in sorbet? I can't unknown it._

_F__ó__dlan is weird. There isn't any flower language, but you can talk to people through cutlery. Why?_

_Going stir crazy,_

_C_

"Alright," Leonie huffs, sweat dripping through her clothing as she stands with her back to where the golden deer hides. "Again."

For such a small piece of Crest, it _burns_ when focused on her. Leonie grits her teeth, repelling it best she can. There is no option but to force the pressured bond cables away. At least she no longer has to use Crest vision to push them, but no less strain as her body pricks with heat and needles on her skin. She can stop her blood from boiling, from creating the rainbow broken strands that yearn to connect with something. She can force it back enough her skin doesn't go red at the physical wanting to tie down.

It is getting easier to repel, but it's still not good enough.

Leonie gasps and staggers into a tree. The pain stops.

"I'm okay," she huffs out, feeling the worry in the air. For once she misses the rain, how it cooled her down. Sweat drips off her fingertips. "I'm okay."

When she's recovered, they go again,

And again.

Until the magic in the air is gone and her body tries to turn practically non-existent fat into energy.

"Thank you," she says to the air, the golden deer still watching from wherever it hides. She hears it's replying trill, a morose sound at putting her through this. "If you didn't help me, I'm not sure how I would be able to go to the Monastery."

The air around her changes, telling her she doesn't have to go. That she could stay. It could help.

They've been over it before. Leonie turns down his plea and his request she join his horde. She stumbles back home, slipping into the quiet and empty house with nary a question of where her father is. She strips off her sweat stained shirt, wishing not for the first time that they had a mirror. That's a noble privilege, same with bathtubs and showers. She'll have to bathe in the stream, cast warming charms on herself so she doesn't freeze.

Leonie pauses when she glances at her nightstand, like she has for months now. A soft smile crosses her lips, orange eyes glued to the acceptance letter a moment longer.

Her mind has memorized her plan by now. Step One: Leave mid-February – _Pegasus Moon_ – to get to the Monastery in time for the testing into full-time classes. Step Two: Pass the testing and get into the full-time curriculum with the rest of Byleth's main students. Step Three: Save Jeralt at the end of the year.

Of course, the first step is always the easiest. Not a lot can go wrong getting herself to the school, she's made sure of that. She can out speed those she needs to and satisfy the urge to kill with those who choose to be a problem. Easy.

Choosing which weapons to take with her are the hard part. She'd take them all if she could.

It's a wonderful feeling, being nineteen again. Practically a middle-aged woman in the eyes of Fódlan.

_19_

_Wow C,_

_That boring? Did they take away your pranking supplies again? By the way, nice poem. You know I enjoy anything that rhymes, I'm simple like that. _

_The art of utensils is a terrible thing, really. I bought a book on it just so I didn't offend anyone at a bar on accident. Did you know eating venison with your knife hand's pinkie up means 'I'm itching for a bar fight?' But only in the Alliance, in the Kingdom it means I'm ready for a one-night stand and in the Empire cutting food with your pinkie on the knife is considered rude. _

_You have that to look forward to. Have fun._

_Speaking of all this learning, I was accepted into Garreg Mach Monastery for this coming school year. So, good news is I can send you letters for free because of the Monastery's free postal service. Bad news is that you'll have to wait a bit longer for my letters, and any you send after Ethereal Moon likely won't reach me. I'll send you and G a letter once I'm at the Monastery, so don't stress too much. I'm sure I'll have a lot to tell you after three months of silence._

_Don't get too bored out there, alright? If you're really desperate, you can always try writing a book. I'd crack open my wallet to buy it._

_I'd try to draw a flower on here, but I don't have a clue what anything besides a rose means. You'll have to find some definitions for me in your fancy family library. _

_Off to fight for the right to learn,_

_L_

**10**.

_20_

_New student L,_

_I'll meet you at the Monastery._

_New student,_

_C_

Up in a tree, Leonie turns the latest letter from her pen pal over and over. It arrived near the beginning of the new year – _four months until game start_ – and a week later she's still worried. Her reply was sent off days after processing the ominous words, doubt creeping into her mind. She doesn't want to meet face-to-face, doesn't want to start liking this person. Even out of respect for Godfrey, she'd feel inclined to keep an eye on the kid.

It would be so easy to cut off, to ignore, but that isn't what makes them human. She still wants that potential friendship, and her spot with the Golden Deer Eight isn't certain. Leonie is the social weak link of the class, her only duty to fixate unhealthily on Jeralt. She holds no importance to the politics, no sway and no say to any of the next leaders of Fódlan.

If she weren't so irritating, Leonie would be forgettable.

If she weren't so emotionally dead inside, she would want to be friends with C in a heartbeat.

Leonie turns the letter over again, gaze casting over the forest. She freezes for one, heart stopping moment as colour flashes through the branches. The nineteen years old stuffs the letter away, climbing to her feet and stealthily moving from tree to tree for a better look.

The browns, blacks, and yellows blend in rather well.

The pink does not.

"What are you doing now?" Hilda complains, leaning against a tree. Leonie stops high above them – no one ever looks up – wrapped in _Invisibility_ two trees in front of the pair. Leonie resists looking at the Crests that ignore her, there will be time for that at the Monastery.

"What it looks like?" Claude jokes. He fiddles with bow, smoothly hooking on an arrow. "Maybe catching something will lift the village's spirits."

Hilda makes a disgusted noise. "I'm not carrying anything back."

Leonie's too focused on what Claude's aiming at. A deer, a _buck_, one most certainly part for the golden deer's collection. She spends no time wondering why it's grazing alone. No, the gut-sinking terror at realizing the golden deer shadows her every move takes precedent. Leonie releases _Invisibility_ and the Crest diverter as she slips off the tree, upping _Shock Absorption_ and _Speed_ to their limit.

Her feet sting impacting with the ground. Her appearance is enough to startle Claude into firing. With _Speed_ blurring her, she easily grabs the arrow an inch from her face, flexing to force it back.

"What," Leonie begins, low deadpan even if her face is smiling its automatic look, "are you two doing out here?"

_Why are we meeting now?_

Claude lets out a soft, "Whoa."

"Are you a Sauin villager?" Hilda stands straight, head high and trying to shield away the bit of fear.

_Why are you in the middle of nowhere Gloucester?_ "I am. Name's Leonie, who are you?"

"Claude von Riegan," the tallest of the three says, reaching out a hand like he means to shake before awkwardly putting it on his hip in a short bow. The smile doesn't reach his eyes, the bow hasn't left his hands, but he at least seems amused by the turn of events. "And this is the lovely Hilda Goneril. You wouldn't happen to be going to Garreg Mach Monastery this year, would you, Leonie?"

Hilda hisses, "Claude-"

_No, seriously, what the f**k?_

Leonie lifts an eyebrow at them, her own rattling smoothed behind an easy mask of '_I'm not angry, everything's fine_'. "I am. Why?"

"We're here to steal you-"

"That's where we're off to," Hilda breaks in, leaning back against the tree now that there's no trouble. "This pitstop was to offer a ride. Is anyone else coming?"

While the cursing mantra loops in her head, Leonie forces the weakness from her voice and explains, "No, it's only me."

_-what the f-_

"Perfect," the pinkette turns and begins the walk back. "Then we can be on our way."

Claude's tight smile widens as he motions, "Ladies first?"

Leonie can't help the snort, holding out the arrow so he has to walk beside her to take it. "I'm aiming for the mercenary certificate, so chivalry is a bit moot to use on me. _By the way_," she cuts in before he can quip back, "I don't recommend hunting any of the deer around here unless you want to piss off his goldenness."

Claude blinks, smile turning wry, "His goldenness?"

"There's a golden deer that's staked land around here. Skewers anyone who hurts his kin."

He chuckles, disbelief not hidden. "You have a golden deer around here?"

Leonie's face sours a bit, "He likes to follow me on hunts."

Claude laughs, making Hilda stop and turn to face them. "The only one I met tried to stampede over me."

"Golden deer story?" Hilda drawl, a grin finally pulling up her face. "My brother and I only saw one once. It saved us from bandits."

_Mine's watching us now._

They break from the forest line, village before them. Leonie pauses for half a step, muttering out, "No f**king way."

Under a lot of mistrustful looks, Godfrey catches sight of them and waves, relief on his face, "Hey! We were looking for you three!"

Leonie doesn't shut down because _no f**king way_ was she so fixated on having a person to talk to that she missed this. Just because they have the same green eyes, just because there's only one full-time Golden Deer student whose name begins with the letter C, means _nothing_.

Godfrey cuts his way over; Claude throws an arm around the orange haired teen's shoulders, saying, "We found _Leonie_."

"Claude, hands off."

"He's fine," Leonie replies automatically. It is fine, she knows because last life she had touch aversion. _No, stop, focus on the now_. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"We're all going to the Monastery," Godfrey explains. Claude drops his arm, him and Hilda leaving towards the wagon with a solid covering displaying all the noble Crests, "and since we were passing through on the way to pick up the last student, I thought why not grab you as well. If you need time to pack-"

"No," Leonie twitches, eyes darting to the crowd slowly forming. The unfavourable looks go towards Godfrey, while a head of what looks like blue violet hair is getting mobbed by children and unbound Gloucester adults alike. "Everything is ready to go."

"Then get it and we'll be on our way." Godfrey smiles and- "Thanks for finding my nephew and his friend. I told them not to wander off but obviously that didn't work."

Leonie feels her whole worldview shatter. She's stronger than curling up into a ball and keening, no matter how much she wants to. Her smile is bright, not a hint revealing how her insides are now cold knives of dread. She practically sprints into her house, reapplying the diverter ward now that no one is around. Her hands shake as she pulls out the emergency bag.

Eyes wide, she asks the empty bed, "What have I done?"

She lets the dread stay a bit more, feeling so strongly a moment longer, before reigning it in. Leonie smiles her bright, excited smile as she feels empty inside. None of it really matters, after all. She cannot turn back time, and the truth is she would never want to. Godfrey and C – _Claude_ – have made the monotony bearable, let her hope for a little more to the world outside the life of a bloodthirsty villager. Even if they'll hate her by the end, she's grateful for every letter of theirs in her pocket space.

Leonie stops by the food prep area, taking her favourite knife out of spite. She is never coming back, after all. That is one character trait her new self doesn't have, doesn't want to repay all the village has done for her.

_New Leonie_ doesn't care what happens to these people. She got them to sustain themselves, and now they survive or rot. Not her problem.

"Leonie," her father meets her halfway to the wagon a Crestless knight told her to ride in. There is still a bit of a crowd, Lorenz putting on a good show as he chats with his people. "Sir Riegan said you two have been in contact for years. Is he the rich merchant you write to?"

She doesn't have to lie or pretend for him anymore. The bitterness may not run deep, but she's never forgiven him for a lot of things. He may have tried to be a good father, but at the end of the day he's still the same person who told her to eat her kill. He's still the man that slept through half her teachers and told her she'd have to make her own money, her own way there, if she wanted to go to the Monastery.

He's the person who hates someone she respects, and the cold apathy kicks away for a moment to remind her that she _doesn't like that_.

Leonie smiles full of teeth and dead eyes, "Goodbye, dad."

Godfrey, at the head of her designated wagon, looks concerned, staring a little too hard at her one bag.

Leonie gives a friendly smile, "I'm ready to go."

"Alright…" he helps her up. She looks in while he calls the other wagons to get moving.

Six of her seven future classmates are before her. Only two can see her.

"Hi!" the oldest of them chirps, drawing all their attention to her. "My name is Leonie Pinelli. It's nice to meet you all."

_20_

_Alright, C. I'll see you there._

_L_

* * *

**A/N:** **In which plans never survive first contact.**

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to ShadowWolf223, MiserableSOUL660, PsychedAnon, xenocanaan, guisniperman, Cyan Sung-Sun, and BlueBunnyims for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**Ashen Wolves DLC content comes out soon, and depending on what happens there my extremely vague hints may or may not follow through. **

**Food for thought: animals turned monsters in this story lose all connection to any Crest bonds they may have had, making them dark-void looking in Leonie's Crest vision. Turning into a monster via Crest Stone however… **

**It may be a while before Byleth shows up, but at least the Golden Deer cast is almost all together. Anyone want to guess who's missing?**

**I hope everyone has a fantastic day. Thanks again for reading**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

**1**.

_Here lie several character traits._

Leonie smiles, leans forward, talking with the two of her future classmates that can focus on her, "So, your parents are Luci and Mickael?"

_The assumption that killing Claude ends the Riegan line. Raphael selling his family's business to afford schooling. Ignatz's guilt that his best friend's parents died on a mission his parents were originally slotted for. Leonie's wanting to repay her village for getting her a noble's recommendation and paying for her tuition. _

"Yah!" Raphael booms. "Oh man, my sister loves hearing about how you came out of nowhere to save them."

_Buried deep in dreams because they never actually happened in this timeline._

Leonie shrugs, leaning back against the bench, eyebrows drawing together. "It wasn't-"

"Did you really outrun a heard of monsters?" Ignatz asks, clutching his book tight to his chest, eyes wide with intrigue.

"Well, erm, I guess."

It is odd, speaking to others around her age. They are still younger, but more mature than the children of her village. Leonie can only just _maybe_ see herself beginning to like them. In a relatively fair-sized space with three different Crests constantly dismissing her – no harder from taking a stroll through a random village – the two Crestless are a breath of fresh air. They are young, commoners, and sons of merchants. They are best friends, yet eager to chat with her.

Down further on the benches are Claude and Hilda, where the Riegan heir is trying to needle a reaction out of the pinkette. When that fails, he turns to easy-target Lorenz, the blue violet haired boy just trying to read his book at the end of the bench.

Beside Leonie, the teenager with bright blue hair slumps her head on the orange haired young woman's shoulder. Leonie freezes for a second before relaxing, turning to the boys to ask, "When was the last time she slept?"

"She looked like this when we picked her up," Ignatz frowns. "This is the first time I've seen Marianne fall asleep, though. She stays with her father when we've stopped."

Hard circles around her eyes, large bags under them, with a face drawn and hallow, Marianne von Edmund looks more like a ghost than Leonie's ever felt. The Crest around her is different too, more warm and less prickling than the others as it moves around her. Leonie only vaguely ponders about moving so to not hurt the girl with her bony shoulders. For all the muscle she's acquired, Leonie barely has padding to spare. Marianne looks tough though, she can handle it.

It's only because she's watching, that out of the corner of her eye Leonie sees Claude jolt in a near-unnoticeable way. He looks at everyone, doesn't skip a beat as he bothers Lorenz, before lingering on the them. Then he turns away like nothing's wrong.

Leonie's too busy making potential friends in hushed whispers to have fully looked at him, "I've seen your mother punch a giant bird out of the sky. I bet you have lots more interesting stories from their travels. Have you ever gone with them?"

**2**.

Leonie swings herself up beside Godfrey, Ignatz quietly drawing in the awaken and frightened Marianne to a conversation. The orange haired girl got an apology for being used as a pillow, but with the Crest dismissing her it was easy to calm the terrified girl down into a modicum bit of self-loathing. That will need to be fixed, but internalized difficulties are not things which can be solved overnight.

"So," Leonie drawls, side-eyeing the man. "Godfrey _von_ _Riegan_. Can't believe I never figured that out."

"I think I did a good job making sure you didn't," he half-smiles, tugging on the reigns to slow the horses. They're very close to the next town, the sun setting as the trees thin. "I'm surprised Claude wasn't badgering you. He's been excited to meet his mysterious pen pal."

Leonie feels the small bit of disbelief and anger well up – the heir hasn't said anything to her since Sauin – but she needs to _focus_. Has to ask, "Did you _tell him_ who I really was?"

Godfrey is suspiciously silent.

"_Godfrey_."

"It's not like it should be hard."

"He probably thinks it's Lorenz!"

"Well then, tell him yourself."

"I'm not saying anything," Leonie doesn't bite back, but it's firm. "Marianne is the only noble in there who's said two words to me past introductions." It's not their fault, but it doesn't endear them any to her. After years and years of biting her tongue and trying to temper her words, she has a habit of not giving free information. No _friends_ to chatter to, after all.

Internalized problems, different for everyone.

"Honestly, if it matters to him to know who I am," Leonie crosses her arms and looks up at the passing branches, "then he can figure it out."

"That's a terrible way of looking at this."

"Why didn't you tell him who I was?"

Godfrey has the grace to look ashamed. Even avoids the question. "Are you still set for the mercenary licence?"

"Yes, though if anyone at the Monastery asks, I want that knight certificate too."

"Oh, you had to write an essay, didn't you?" he grins. "Do you have a copy?"

Leonie lolls her head towards him. Lolls it away. "I'll let you read it after we've stopped."

"You read my mind," he chuckles, following her gaze to the others guiding the carriages. "That is Lord Edmund. Marianne's adoptive father. He's the only noble Lord part of this expedition, but it's strange he came here at all. Though, the only person not expendable is the last person we're picking up."

Leonie's smile is on, looking amused even if a cold bites her insides. Not one person here is indispensable, likely not even the last person they are to gather. Even if her actions have changed some details, fate is still stringing them along. Raphael wants to get the knight certificate to do escort jobs for other merchants. Ignatz wants training so, as a knight, his family won't have to pay for protection on trips. Claude is still Heir Riegan even though his uncle never died. Leonie was still accepted without a noble's recommendation.

It is odd they're all travelling together, but not the strangest thing this life has thrown her way. "I'm not sure you're supposed to say that with several heirs behind you."

"Eh, maybe not. Best to let you know who to protect, though."

Leonie looks him head on, "What makes you think I'd protect anyone?"

He cheekily grins at her, "First, where do you think we're going?"

Leonie's been mapping the way in her head. They'll be at the official border of Gloucester by tomorrow, so far been travelling southwest. She tries to think of another answer, tries not to fixate on the facts from a barely remembered story, but they're missing one Golden Deer classmate, one person who's heir to the seat of House, "Ordelia."

"Correct," he turns from the horses to match her grin, cheer not meeting his eyes. "My sister can replace Claude and myself, Hilda's older brother is in line for Goneril's heirship. Gloucester has an offshoot branch that could takeover but would rather have a stranglehold on the merchant trade, Lord Edmund has several children back home, and Ignatz and Raphael are commoners.

"Lysithea von Ordelia is the only child of her family to survive the plague. Without her, the house will fall. Goneril and Gloucester will probably fight for the land if the Empire doesn't make a bid for it. Sure, we're all important, but if she doesn't make it to the Monastery, the Alliance will break apart in the power void left behind."

Leonie doesn't narrow her eyes as she breaks in, "I'm sure war would break out if any of you died, but why tell me this?"

"I'd pay you to make sure she stays alive," he looks out over the horizon. "Through this and until the end of the school year."

The nineteen years old both feels her hackles raise and indifference settle over her. Her smile sticks, head dropping to look at the horses as her voice, deadly, tells him, "Keep your money. I wasn't going to let any of you die anyway."

_Everything needs to keep moving forward. _

Even if she feels nothing for them all, even if she hates them, they are not allowed to die until the time skip. If they're allowed to die, then she is too. _Expendable. Canon fodder_.

Leonie is better than dying like that. She has to be. Or else this was all for nothing, a new life wasted.

This doesn't feel like protection. Maybe stubbornness, but not whatever Godfrey seems to be delighted in having her admit. She rolls her eyes and leaves as dramatically as possible back to the teenagers.

**3**.

Great Bridge of Myrddin exists in two places, though when people talk about it they assume it's the one connecting the Empire to the Alliance. Lord Acheron controls the territory between the two bridges, the smallest territory of all Alliance nobles, making him a powerful political threat because of how much his land connects between all areas. He essentially controls major trade routes and safe passage to other areas of the Alliance Countries.

Officially, his land is under Gloucester Country's purview. Since his territory exists between Great Bridge of Myrddin's Empire half and Riegan half, he unofficially borders Gloucester, Riegan, Goneril, and Ordelia. Summer villa by the Riegan bridge, winter villa by the Empire bridge.

Which means they get the joy of staying with Lord Acheron three days after stopping in Sauin Village. Godfrey tries to convince Leonie to come into the villa with them for the feast and real beds, but she refuses, warming charmed cloak around her and citing she wants to see the village. Acheron seems to think she's part of the guard crew anyhow, it's not like he takes offense to her refusal.

And while they all sleep, she deals with the assassins. _Again_.

_You think they'd give up_, Leonie mouths under Silence. _But then you stop at a known sleazy motel and they just keep coming._

These ones are odd, however. Very different from the bandits or scavengers that seem to be all along the roads. These are a few in beak masks, every single one in robes, and organized in their movement. It's almost becomes like playing a game for Leonie, circle the villa and kill any before the reach the walls. Knock them far back if one hit won't do it, and continue.

When it's all over, Leonie steals the few intact glass vials from their robes, taking their coins, knives, and staffs with a hum, breaking any enchantments or tracking devices. Then it's body disposal time.

Finally, Leonie lies down in the wagon to sleep. Only, there are footsteps so soft she almost disregards them when _Danger Sense_ doesn't ping. The young woman strips down _Invisibility_ and _Silence_, hiding an open eye to try and catch the intruder.

Claude moves to the opening, seemingly relaxes at the sight of her. He turns away, hand pressing to his face as he mutters, "Why am I even out here?"

Leonie takes to opportunity to switch into Crest vision.

She's not ready to see golden-white leaking from his veins.

The young woman quickly shuts her eyes after her gasp, not seeing what happens beyond Claude's startle. She fakes a shift, breathing evening out. Eventually, he leaves.

She throws back on the wards and follows. Up the ivory and making sure he's back into his room fine. Leonie practically throws herself in the wagon when she's back, arm over her eyes as she tries to process what she saw. What she _double checked_.

Thin, gold-white strands trying desperately to hold on. The Crest of Riegan. The colour which pours from the golden deer's heart.

_It could mean nothing_, Leonie thinks forlornly. _Correlation does not imply causation_.

C is Claude, Godfrey was once Heir Riegan, and Luci and Mickael survived into Raphael's school years. Leonie has met and been brushed off by so many people over the years, it should have meant nothing that the one to pay attention – to want her in his party – was someone important.

It should mean nothing that there was a deer with a Crest shard in its heart.

Leonie thinks, _maybe gold and white are common Crest bond colours_.

She doesn't appreciate how it feels like lying to herself.

**4**.

Leonie doesn't avoid Claude, but she stops making the effort of announcing her presence. He glances at her – _searches for her_ – more often. Once even looking around the wagon's fabric to make sure she's still keeping pace as she runs with the company.

She thinks he's supposed to be sly and crafty. This must be his paranoia, keeping track of everyone. Looking for threats. She hopes the answer is as simple as this. Leonie's not sure she can take much more deep-thinking problem solving.

The urge to stab something hasn't left since day four. By day five, Ignatz and Raphael have noticed that the roundtable noble teens never seem to include Leonie in conversations. They don't question her about it, which she is more than appreciative of.

Most of the time Marianne spends with them is asleep on Leonie or making very short conversation with others. She'll talk softly with the orange haired commoner, the tense edge of being in a confined space with others never truly easing. The blue haired teen admits quietly that she's worried about causing ruin to them all.

"You're not causing anything wrong," Leonie mutters back just as soft. Marianne isn't comfortable enough for skin-on-skin touch, but lately has been leaning on Leonie when awake. The giant blue dress the teen wears is covered in wards and charms. "I'll probably be the one making trouble. And, I've been having a wonderful time talking with you. No need to stress, Marianne."

As much as the soft-spoken girl isn't growing on her, it helps pass the time. Leonie's beginning to force her way into Team Mum position, something that never happened in the story. The only real Team Mother was in the Blue Lions house, a girl who could sick burns on even the wildest of personalities.

_What was her name again?_ Leonie has it written somewhere. She'll have to ask for some pointers on how help the class, if she gets in of course. If not, well, there are plenty of other things to do at the Monastery.

Plenty to _explore_.

"Oooh," Leonie awes, ignoring Godfrey's squawk at her appearance, "look at that. Talk about dark and foreboding."

Seven days on the road, and finally time to meet the last classmate.

"Make some noise," Godfrey complains, Leonie settling into the space beside him. The wagon rolls smoothly over packed dirt to the castle made of dark marble. "I guess Capital Ordelia would look like that to strangers. It's actually a rather calm place, lots of dark undertones for colour."

_Lots of dark themes everywhere_. "Are we staying for the night or…?"

"We'll be leaving as soon as we get the heir," he replies a little tightly. "I didn't expect us to make such good time, normally bandits attack the royal carriages on their way to the Monastery. Houses Riegan and Goneril usually fly their students directly."

It makes more sense then the carriage ride. "Why not this year?"

He takes a deep breath. "There likely isn't going to be as many Golden Deer students this year. Same with last year."

Leonie hums, knowing many on the west of the Alliance were killed because of the sickness which took the children around her. Did it decimate more? What happened that the east of the Alliance is sending heirs via road trip? "And, I guess this lets the future leaders interact before school."

"Claude does need more friends," Godfrey grins a bit. "And your letter said you were going to walk there? Leonie, I know you're good, but this is much safer. I'm glad you came with us."

She hums, brushing her boots together to feel the sheaths press against her socks. There is turbulence in the air, over her skin, the closer they get to city. A bit of lightening wouldn't be out of place as two weak things clash against each other, unseen and unfelt to the others. With the feelings follows _Danger Sense_, beginning to alert her to the troublesome people watching them from the city walls.

"I'm glad I came too." _Lie_. More like she's pleasantly surprised to see a bit more of the world. No need to upset Godfrey. The teens have all year to make friends with one another.

Or not.

So much to prepare for, so little time.

**5**.

The orange haired nineteen years old keeps her hands behind her lower back, carefully watching the interior like a tourist. Very gothic-esque setting, gargoyles even inside and billowing drapes with spiderweb designs. One of the five Houses part of the Leicester Alliance's roundtable, the only one without a Crest assigned with their origin, House Ordelia is known for its good trade with the smaller territories in the Empire, producing intellectuals who have challenged the sciences of Fódlan, and having the highest record of noble births. That last one was something they could boast to, until only one child in their entire lineage remained after the 'plague'.

Leonie remember the real reason. The backstory of the Golden Deer house may be vague memories, but the told-and-true facts are hard to forget when the reminder is in the air itself. Lysithea von Ordelia was experimented on like her siblings. Unlike them, she survived and came out with two Crests. By the feel of it, one major and one minor.

The timeline isn't quite adding up, however. Lysithea would have just been a baby at most when the plague hit. Unless… they're talking about the one from the Kingdom.

In her mind, Leonie sighs. _I'll never understand politics_.

"At least stay for lunch," Lady Ordelia insists. Leonie snaps her attention away from the creepy people in the shadows watching them to the castle's owner at the mention of food.

Godfrey is doing his best to _get out_, "We really shouldn't impose."

"Nonsense," Lord Ordelia mutters through his bushy mustache. "It would be our honor to host you all. Why, our daughter should be finished packing. At least some light snacks before you go. Maybe tea?"

"I would love some tea," Lorenz, who seems to enjoy watching Godfrey squirm and doesn't understand the situation they're in, smiles pleasantly. Leonie doesn't roll her eyes because people can focus on her, but the amount of tea he drinks is absurd. At least three cups for every stop, and a small bladder.

Hilda just moans her complaints when tea withdrawal hits her.

"Wonderful!" Lady Ordelia claps.

"We should at least make sure Heir Ordelia is all set and ready," Godfrey forces his smile more, turning to look at the kids. His eyes pass over the boys, decides Hilda wouldn't do it, and 'nope's over Marianne's aura of gloom, leaving, "Leonie, would you mind carrying her things to the cargo wagon? Ah, you probably don't know, but it's a twenty-point limit."

_That's not a lot_. She salutes, "Got it!" Begins her search without asking where to go. It's not that hard to, just follow where the only Crests are coming from. She does wonder if anyone questions how she figures it out. Enough wrong turns, and the shadows stop following her.

With a metaphysical wave and stream washing over her, the young woman knocks. The echo is thin, the wood not too old or thick.

A teenager not yet fifteen opens it. Hair milk-bottle white and smooth skin that's paler and thinner than Marianne's, Lysithea bores pink eyes into her without squinting, "Who are you?"

The two out-of-sync Crests move around her, one disagreeing with what the other interacts with, not _seeing_ a person on a different wavelength. Oil and water sensing conflicting things, two negatives making a positive.

Lysithea must have the situational awareness of a Goddess.

"Leonie," she smiles with a tad of realism in it, no matter how unchanged it is to her normal one. "I'm with the group here to pick you up for Garreg Mach."

Lysithea von Ordelia sniffs, crossing her arms. "I didn't think there was an Heir Leonie."

"There's not," she responds easily, all attention on the teen. "I'm one of three commoners travelling with the group."

"Oh. My apologies. I had thought it was only the heirs given travel."

The white-haired teen does look uncomfortable about assuming. Leonie spreads her hands in a '_what can you do'_ manner. "It's always good to be worried. Ask questions. I'm here to help with your luggage while your parents try to bribe us into staying for lunch."

Lysithea gets a peeved look on her face. "I told them not to do that."

While she storms back into her rather small room, Leonie takes a look around. Two dolls, one stuffed golden deer on the bed, discarded beside a small crate. A writing desk, broken quills and blotchy paper in a waste basket. Lysithea stands in front of a bookshelf full of thick tomes, hand reaching forward and hesitating over and over as she chooses what to pick.

When Leonie looks in the crate, there's maybe room for two books. The clothing already tucked in is a standard black, no jewellery or writing utensils to be found. Nothing precious from home.

She really, really shouldn't care. Leonie doesn't bother making herself known, the only times she talks with Marianne are when the teen awakens, Ignatz has started his own studying while Raphael works on weapon maintenance. Lysithea, no matter if she can see her or not, will be like the others. From the vague scrapings Leonie has focused on her classmates, she remembers Lysithea being studious to the point of damaging her already frail health. A possible glass cannon with no time for foolishness.

Leonie doesn't feel like she cares, actually feels a bit awkward, but shuts the door anyways.

It gets Lysithea's attention. "What are you doing?"

"If you can keep a secret," Leonie puts a finger over her own lips, winking to make it seem more playful. It's a rather important secret, but not one that will stay hidden if she makes it into the main class, "I'll help you smuggle some books."

The white-haired mage-in-training narrows her eyes. "And how would you do that? They're going to add extra weight to our travels unless you run with them the whole time."

_Oh, if only she knows what's to come_. "Like I said, secret." Leonie holds out her smallest finger, "Pinkie promise you won't tell anyone what you're about to see, and we can take as many books as you want."

Lysithea rears back for a moment, but then the hesitant curiosity comes forth. It's good to see that wasn't stamped out of the girl. "What is a… pinkie promise?"

"A solemn oath," Leonie grins a bit wider. "No actual magic involved, it's just to make you feel extra guilty if you break the promise. It's like… have you ever heard _cross my heart and hope to die_? It's like that except not as extreme."

"That sounds like a terrible way to make a promise," but Lysithea raises a pinkie finger. Enunciates clearly, "I promise not to tell anyone about how you smuggled in my books _if_ you help me take them to Garreg Mach Monastery."

Leonie hooks their fingers and moves up and down. Lysithea looks at the unjoining of their hands funnily, but only asks, "Now what?"

"Now, you make a list of the books we're taking along." Leonie grabs the main one Lysithea had been hesitating over. Thicker than her palm and all about magic. She reads out the name, waiting until the fourteen years old writes it down on scrap paper before she opens her rucksack. Lysithea makes a strangled gasp and rushes over, gapping at the sight of darkness.

Leonie demonstrates how to take it out, warning the teen it will shock her if she tries. Lysithea goes stone-faced for a moment before a sharp nod. "We're taking them all."

Leonie grins, "You got it."

**6**.

The group finds them with the wagons, Leonie and Lysithea having a heated discussion on the application of glyphs outside of casting. The shorter of the two cuts off as the party arrives, drawing herself up as tall as she can, greeting, "Mother. Father."

"Oh, Lysithea dear," Lady Ordelia rushes forward to give her daughter a hug. "Are you sure you want to do this? You can always wait-"

"I am _not_ a child, mother," Lysithea stops her awkward patting to pull away. "I am old enough to attend Garreg Mach and I am ready for it. _I hope you respect my decision_."

"I do, I do," the woman wipes away her own tears, memorizing her daughter's face. Leonie turns away, clear to her that Lysithea is pushing away her family even if she wants to hold on and never let go. _Ugh. I wonder what that feels like._ "I worry. I'll always worry."

"Now, now," Lord Ordelia comes up and, after Leonie spares a glance to make sure magic-encyclopedia-Lysithea doesn't need her, Leonie pulls herself into the student's wagon. "Our little girl can handle herself."

Leonie pulls out an apple and starts eating, head falling back against the cover fabric as she waits. Hopefully no one was poisoned without her around. Everyone seemed to have all fingers and toes, and the shadows and officials triggering _Danger Sense_ are staying back. Moments later, Lysithea scampers on and takes Ignatz's usual seat across from Leonie. She eyes the fruit, "Do you have any more?"

Leonie tosses another at her.

"Thanks."

The young woman winks and wiggles her pinkie, smiling, "Don't mention it."

Lysithea grins behind a bite. Swallows. "So, why do you think it'd be possible to keep glyphs from disappearing without a source of focused magic?"

**7**.

Lorenz pretty quickly swaps his seat from the end with the usual nobles to beside Lysithea, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you discussing magical theory?"

The ladies share a look, Lysithea answers, "We're focusing on _Reason Magic_ at the moment."

"Fascinating," he looks more at Lysithea than at Leonie, but he's at least acknowledging her. "What are your thoughts on Haffens theory of displacement?"

It devolves from there into lightly heated arguments on personal beliefs versus Fódlan-wide accepted values of magic. Leonie is beginning to see what will hopefully become a pattern in the coming six-day journey to the Monastery. Listening to their arguments and tossing in her own limited knowledge raises a lot of questions on how her 'wrong' way of doing magic is even possible. Not that the two heirs realize her 'hypothetical' situations are anything but.

Once, and only once, Lorenz tries to argue his point with, "I am the only one here who has ever been apart of the Royal Academy of Sorcery, so I am the only one who understands this subject."

"Oh," Leonie cuts back bluntly, smile serene, "you mean the one they kicked you out of?"

He splutters, "I was _not_ kicked out! The political tensions in Fhirdiad were not worth the risk of staying."

"So you ran," Lysithea shoots back like the _beautiful_ ally she is. Lorenz continues to choke, Lysithea continues to be unimpressed, "Are we supposed to be awed that you didn't finish school? How long were you even there for?"

"Why I-"

"About three months," Leonie rolls a hand like she's not certain. "It wasn't very long. I remember hearing about his departure and arrival in the rumor mill."

Lorenz huffs out the amount of days, clearly irritated with them both. He barely contributes to the discussion after that and leaves to go read as soon as they stop in the middle of nowhere for the night.

Lysithea follows Leonie to the camping gear wagon, getting Godfrey's attention and staring him down with all the intimidation her 148-centimeter height can muster, "I will be sharing a tent with Leonie tonight."

He raises an eyebrow, smiling a little too giddily for Leonie's liking, and responds with, "Just don't stay up all night discussing magic theory."

"Here," Leonie hands over the tent poles, light enough to carry but large enough to feel like a lot. "Go pick out where you want the tent. I'll get the coverings."

"O-okay!"

Leonie pointedly ignores Godfrey's smile. Once the tent is up, she hands the young teen the requested textbook. Sheet-white Lysithea, who could be mistaken to have albinism if it existed in this world, situates herself in the tent and ignores the world. Leonie hesitates outside for a second, then grossly licks her finger and plants the _Repel Damage_ ward on the hanging fabric. Better safe than sorry. The young teen's father has pink eyes, but neither parents were that level of ghost white and neither have her white hair.

_Just how deep did the Crest experiments go?_

It also reminds Leonie something she needs to ask Godfrey, but only when they're moving and barely any sound reaches past the driver bench. She really doesn't want to ask; social politics aren't her thing – especially since she now experiences more joy killing her problems than talking them out – but this problem wouldn't go away with an easy stab at the offenders. Leonie will have to pull up all the future-thinking, barbed tongue of reasonable arguments that is geared more towards last life than this one. It makes her feel empty inside even thinking about standing up for people instead of stabbing those who go against her ideals.

Dimitri's way didn't work. Plus, he's royalty. His devoted people will always give him a pass. Edelgard was the villain the moment she triggered war. Leonie doesn't want to be seen as evil, but this body has a hard time caring about what people think of her. It's hard enough _caring_ about keeping Jeralt alive, and all the plans the lead up entails. If she had to _care_ about taking an active role in changing the status quo, Leonie would have run off long ago. It's too much effort for someone who _couldn't care less_ about this world.

Leonie finally goes into her tent around two in the morning, the bodies of their attackers nothing more than ash. There was less this time, hopefully meaning they're running out of expendables.

It would be so easy to follow along with fate. Someone will win, many will lose. As long as she doesn't stick around, Leonie only needs to worry about the timeline falling to pieces later in her life. She must be doing something right, as she's still alive and time's moving forward.

It could be so easy to give in and _kill_.

Lysithea snorts in her sleep, turning over and grabbing onto Leonie with freezing hands.

Leonie looks at the girl with too few years left a moment longer. She closes her eyes and relaxes, ignoring the Crests that disagree around her.

It would be nice to have friends. She'll settle for a pack bond with something that isn't a mindless weapon. If worst comes to worst, she'll drop by Captain Jeralt's office for tea.

Once they're on the road again, Lorenz throws himself in his new seat and begins debating Faith Magic theory with vigor.

Leonie appreciates the new point of view. Appreciates hearing not all faith magic has to do with the Goddess. According to some researchers, sometimes all it takes is heat-of-the-moment _hope_.

**8**.

When they stop at a town for lunch, Hilda grabs Marianne's arm and gives Lysithea a '_come hither or else'_ glare, "Us girls are going shopping!"

Lysithea grabs Leonie's arm before she can step away. The youngest pretends to glare even if she's vibrating in excitement, "If I have go, you do too."

"Fine," Leonie sighs, lets herself get dragged along. She won't be able to buy anything, in fact she's positive none of them will be able to.

Turns out Hilda was given some shopping money before she left her territory. For someone who complains about having to do things, Hilda drags them all over the place. She and Lysithea try out different perfumes while Leonie walks Marianne over to a nearby tree full of birds and talks her down from a panic attack.

"I'm more likely to cause trouble then you are," she assures the girl.

"You don't understand," Marianne says each word between a breath. "I- I-!"

"You are fine," she keeps the pale girl's hand on her chest, taking deep breaths to try and get a mimic effect. "Just because bad things happen around you does not mean you are the cause. _Not even if people tell you_." Leonie is quick to make sure Marianne cannot utter a word about how she is 'disastrous'. "There is no Crest, curse, or bad karma that makes people around you have bad luck or disasters. That's their fault. Come on, Marianne, breathe with me."

Lysithea comes away from the perfume stall to find them, but Leonie shakes her head. The younger teen frowns but, noticing the state of the blue haired teen, backs away. Leonie relaxes and goes back to comforting the meltdown that's obviously been building up over the weeks of travel.

She knows it isn't likely, what with the medieval set-up of the world, but Leonie wants there to be some good counselors to help these kids adjust at the Monastery. Someone to talk them through their first kills, to help them adjust to the culture shock of moving to a strongly religious place of worship, and to assist in all the emotional and mental baggage every single student will bring with them

Judging by how unstable she remembers people being – remembers them _becoming_ – Leonie isn't looking forward to watching everyone's mental health decline.

**9**.

With four days left in the journey, they're close enough to see the mountain that Garreg Mach Monastery is home to. There are spires in the sky, slowly but surely becoming more and more noticeable.

Leonie knows she can't put this off much longer. Instead of debating magic theory with her fellow _L_'s or running to keep in practice, she swings into the seat beside Godfrey, taking a moment to study him.

Leonie knows she fixates on eyes and hair, the former more so than the latter. Eyes were the first thing she saw in this new life, the first thing to tell her this isn't her homeland. Every eye in Fódlan has three rings: the middle circle in the iris, between the edge ring and the pupil. It is a darker shade of the iris colour, moving as the pupil does. She still doesn't know what it's for, but it was and still is the marker that states _this_ _isn't the world you first grew up in_.

Hair, she fixates on because it can naturally be any colour. Leonie's is a vibrant orange, there was a child in her village that had lilac for a colour. Hilda and her brother were born with bright pink hair, a signature look come to be known with the children of Goneril. No one blinks twice when hair in this world isn't black, brown, yellow, orange, red, or white.

The only thing Leonie fixates with skin, is any scars. Faith magic can do a lot of things, reason magic too though many disagree with its healing ability. Healing magic is as terrifying as it is wonderful. It is the reason Leonie isn't covered in acne pockets or brandishing scars from all her hits. They can be _hoped_ away, _believing_ you won't wake up with the zit on your forehead _works_. The magic heals tears in clothing without a thought, because people believe it to still be intact even after that missed arrow drew a cut.

Magic heals sunspots, burns, bruises, _damage_. It stops tanning, which is why Leonie is only vaguely yellowing all over. Healing magic reverts you back to the last state of healthy at the cost of your own energy. Leonie has spent years in the sun with nothing to show for it. That, to anyone in Fódlan who's picked up one of bibles and read a certain Seiros speech, shows the mark of someone well-versed in Faith. A true believer.

Leonie has learned to paraphrase it as: Quite a catch. Nobles are taught to keep their skin as white as possible, and if it's impossible then to remove any and all traces of scarring instead of wasting energy on that. It's something that's disgruntled her for years; she wants to tan. Needs some kind of proof that she's worked long hours in the outside if she'll ever be taken seriously as a mercenary. Jeralt had several faded scars on his face, things that make his Blade Breaker status common knowledge.

She also enjoys looking at people who aren't ghostly or look a stiff breeze from flying away. If Leonie cared to bemoan it, she'd silently complain in her mind how only two teenagers in the wagon don't reminder her about the possibilities of skin cancer and vitamin D deficiency. Raphael and Claude are the only teens with healthy looking complexations, even Hilda with all her hidden strength looks like she'd get dizzy from standing too fast. It's _annoying_.

More than that, it edges on Fódlan's racism. It's rare for anyone to outright look down on someone with darker skin, but the 'standard' is white. Even worse, the people of Fódlan can look at someone and know if they're from Almyra. Leonie has no idea how, no idea if it's a Crest thing or if it works with other countries or territories like Brigid, but in every town they've past so far, people are hesitant around Claude. Some children have even asked their parents where he's from.

Leonie's found her urge to kill rising a lot these days. With less enemies appearing, she's growing antsy even if she's hiding it well.

"So," she quietly asks Godfrey, "what do I need to know about Claude's story?"

If he's surprised she asks, he doesn't show it. "His father's from Almyra. I don't think anyone would have the gall to ask the next leader of the roundtable about it, but I would appreciate keeping it hidden as long as possible. I'm sure you can see why not a lot of people would be happy with it."

Because she respects him, Leonie nods. "Need me to do anything?"

"Just, keep an eye out for him, yes? He's only been in Fódlan a few months before the pen pal thing. As adjusted as he can be, he will stand out amongst the nobles."

"Got it." If she remembers correctly, he'll stand out more than his uncle thinks. While everyone should be settling it or gearing up for lessons, it is _school_. The social pit of humanity's children. There's always at least one stupid person who thinks they're more powerful than the rest. As long as they don't go after – or against – the Leader of the Golden Deer, Leonie will get to work elsewhere in improving Claude's standings.

The fights around them will happen, but there are adults who can deal with it. What Leonie's most concerned with is infighting.

Only time will tell just where she'll attack first.

**10**.

The full of Garreg Mach Monastery comes into view as the trees part.

Leonie feels a lick of dread in her stomach as she smiles with the other students at the wonder. _It's… big_. A lot bigger than she expected.

Many places to hide, much to explore. It's going to be a busy year.

* * *

**A/N:** **In which they finally reach the Monastery. In other news, New Leonie's a lot angrier than she realizes and doesn't seem to understand what this body deems as 'caring for others'.**

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to ShadowWolf223, xenocanaan, IReadNoNonsense, guisniperman, 2lazy2login, AdamasintheRough, and PsychedAnon for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**Thanks to everyone who guessed, it is Lysithea in the end. Godfrey volunteered to take all the heirs because who would think attacking them all at once was a good idea, right? (Only Hilda and Lysithea's parents agreed this was a good plan and so majority ruled.)**

**Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone has a fantastic day**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

**1**.

Leonie is…

…_tired_.

Unlike her Crested classmates – bar Lysithea – she is at the peak years where waking up at dawn and getting four to six hours of sleep a night just doesn't cut it. It doesn't bring back memories, but she swears she's done this before. Done this for school. Crests might not make morning people, but over the years of observing the few Crest bearing people who interact with villages she frequents, Leonie's noticed they don't need the full amount of shuteye.

She doesn't even want to guess how long Marianne's was without sleep before she crashed.

Leonie holds it together, though. The bits of mania may have her smiling more, finding humor where she shouldn't, but through grit and determination, constantly fighting against the pull to rest, eating lots of snacks to make up for the lost sleep, Leonie hasn't fallen into quick-paced, instinct raring, _crazy_.

The moment they pass the barrier around the mountain, she almost does.

There are bountiful amounts of Crest strands moving around, but that isn't important because they are so far away from the cause. Leonie doesn't need to switch visions to notice how some of her classmates are picked up. It was always going to happen. Hilda takes a deep breath, shoulders rolling back to loosen. Lorenz cocks his head, absently linking his fingers. Marianne hangs her head with a smile, mouthing a small prayer. Ignatz and Raphael don't stop their conversation, though both take a moment to turn and look at the Monastery.

Lysithea grits her teeth, pain creasing her face. She takes Leonie's quickly offered rag, turning away to hide the coughing up blood.

Claude tenses, stiff as a board. His eyes dart around, dominant hand giving one deep gouge in his other before he realizes he's scratching. Quickly grips a bow and begins maintenance.

All the adults appear fine, having been here before.

No, the Crests aren't what is bothering Leonie as they slip around her. It's all the ambient magic in the air. She sucked in a sharp breath as suddenly, very wide awake, Leonie was no longer powering her wards. There is so much magic in the air, trapped in this bubble around the mountain, _around the Monastery_, that it requires none of her own energy to direct or feed all the layers on her. Crest threads slide off her like she's _nothing_. She presses nails into her skin, and yet no marks are left behind as the traces from years of _Durability_ crank up to eleven.

The nerves are crawling in her, Leonie doesn't even want to think of a spell lest it happen with the magic so abundant and willing.

Marianne doesn't have such luck. She begins glowing as faith magic kicks up and _Heals_ Leonie, Lorenz, and Hilda because they're all adjacent.

_This is going to be a fun year_, thinks Leonie with some of her mania as she no longer has to use that to fight sleepiness. Lorenz compliments Marianne, who in turn becomes a stuttering mess of apologies.

Lysithea creates a toxic stench in the wagon as she _Miasma's_ the rag out of existence. Leonie makes a noise of protest at her belonging – _and it was __**hers**__ no matter how awful and old it was_ – being destroyed. The white-haired young teen looks her dead in the eye, "I will get you a new one."

Leonie doesn't whine, _but I wanted that one_. She has no respect that Lysithea is going to come through on that promise, and the nineteen years old had memories attached to the old thing. She's tired and ready to make bad decisions, _but_… practice has her taking a deep breath before she speaks. Leonie. Keeps. Smiling. "Okay."

She strives not to be brash, after all.

**2**.

Has Leonie thought about all the ways to kill everyone around her? Yes. More than once. She has an unfortunately keen eye when it comes to spotting weaknesses. Exit strategies are also her thing, though she's learned to spend more time thinking about quiet exits than noticeable ones. It's more useful to stay unseen.

The marketplace attached to Garreg Mach Monastery's inner wall is a lot larger than Leonie was expecting. _Everything_ is a lot bigger than she was expecting. They're guided through the market, the people milling about giving them no more than a curtesy glance. They have arrived _very_ early, end-of-mid-February – _Pegasus Moon – _early. Leonie had planned to leave home about now.

Instead she's being taken to the spare rooms between the half-time students and knights' dormitories. Of all the changes to her plans, she does appreciate Godfrey being an adult and taking charge here. She'd have been lost searching for proper instruction, but it wouldn't have been her first time out in the cold if no one could help.

"This is…" Leonie blinks at the sight around the several crates in her arms, "interesting."

Bunkbeds. Foundation made of stone, creating a tome-like resting place feel. The orange haired young woman tries to breathe through the fear settling in, terrified that-

"I want the top," Hilda and Lysithea burst in sync.

Marianne whimpers.

-someone's going to fall. Leonie shrugs her agreement and places their stuff on their beds. She gets the one under Lysithea, _so at least if it breaks it won't be the teen's fault for smothering her_.

Leonie blinks down at her hands, unseeing for a moment. _I'll have to set up an invisible barrier, won't I_?

For her continuing health, most likely.

Lysithea's head appears from above. "Can I have Gee Dee?"

"Oh, sure," Leonie pulls out the stuffed golden deer.

"Oh Goddess!" Hilda squeals, _loudly_. "That is so cute!"

Lysithea stutters and flushes, but it's nowhere near the level of hate she gathers when Claude sticks his head in at the noise, grinning at the sight and telling her, "That's cute, kid."

"_I AM NOT A KID!_"

**3**.

It takes Godfrey calling them to stop the argument – more bugging on Claude's half – between the future house leader and the youngest future Golden Deer. Leonie's made sure everyone is out before she locks and mutters, "_Warning System_." Without DNA matches she can't tell the intruder, but at least she'll know whenever someone comes and goes through the door. The window and room will need to be worked on later.

Hurrying down to the yard reveals there's a line of her potential classmates. Two knights are on either side of a desk that wasn't there before. Leonie sees a flash of dark green from the person talking with Claude and Godfrey at the front, but doesn't want to jump to conclusions.

_It's Seteth. It has to be. _

No, not jumping to conclusions at all.

"What are we doing?" Leonie whispers to Marianne.

"R-registering for school," she's hunched over, looking for her father.

"Oh, alright. Do you… need me to grab something while we wait?"

"No," Marianne shakes a bit. Pulls out a book. "I have something."

"Alright."

Everyone talks with Godfrey next to them. He only leaves once to gather more money for Raphael's tuition, laughing it off when the teen promise to repay him. When they're done, they're allowed to roam the courtyard.

With only three of them in line, Leonie notices it is Seteth filling out papers. Lysithea drops her money, and Marianne's father appears just in time to answer questions for his adoptive daughter. Godfrey moves back with Leonie, asking, "Nervous?"

"Of course," she rolls her shoulders with a smile. "It's my last year to be accepted."

"_Technically_," he drawls, "you could try again next year. The Church-year begins and ends in April."

Leonie makes a choked noise, actually surprised, "You know, I completely forgot about that."

"Most of us do," he sighs. "Makes for a nightmare dating documents and letters."

Lord Edmund – Leonie has to remind herself to call him Margrave Edmund, since he's above her commoner status – hands an envelope to Seteth. She has an inkling to what that is about, but the Edmunds leave before anything can be said.

Last but not least.

"Leonie Pinelli," the nineteen years old introduces herself. Doesn't reach out a hand to shake because that's not how it's done in Fódlan. Handshakes are only for _deals_.

"Ah, yes," Seteth looks straight through the diverter ward, right into her eyes, and smiles. "I am glad you came to the Monastery early. We have much to discuss."

_That sounds ominous_.

He turns to Godfrey, "This _is_ the one you were talking about in your letter, correct, Sir Riegan?"

"Sure is, Seteth," he grins sheepishly.

"Well then," Leonie carefully turns back to the paper shuffling Seteth does. "This will be your final tuition, Ms. Pinelli. With the Duke's recommendation-"

"_What?!_" Leonie pauses at that noise. The noise she made. The reason everyone's stopped to stare at her. _No idea my voice could go so h- focus_. She whirls on Godfrey, "_What did you do?!"_

"Well," he nervously holds his hands behind his back, chest puffing a bit, "you wouldn't let me get you any gifts for saving my life, so I thought this would suffice."

"You-" she squeaks, anger and disbelief warring. Turns to the green haired man. "He-?"

Seteth raises an eyebrow.

Leonie sucks in a whistled scream. Takes the offered paper and just about cries at the amount. "Remind me again what the cost is without the noble recommendation."

Seteth does, sounding vaguely amused.

Leonie sucks in another scream, free fist clenching. She gathers all her energy-burning emotions forefront and sharply turns, jerking her head to meet warm green eyes.

She can't refuse.

_Gold coins tinkling._

She… won't be rich but will be able to spend more than frugally throughout the year.

_Silver catching light._

She won't have to hunt for side jobs.

_Bronze twisting over fingers._

"I hope you know," Leonie pretends she isn't shaking, emotions on every sense, "this doesn't mean I'll join your guard."

Godfrey breaks into a grin. "Wouldn't have expected anything less."

The young woman nods, wipes the tears from her eyes, and gets back to business. Tells Seteth, "I'll need a moment to recount the tuition."

He is definitely entertained. Confused, but the tension is gone from his face. "Go ahead."

**4**.

"You will receive your final schedule once the full-time selection has been decided," Seteth explains while Leonie signs the waivers. _I understand that, by agreeing to learn under Garreg Mach Monastery, my actions can result in death if my skills are inefficient._ "That normally happens mid-April. Your house's assigned teacher will be the one to give you your schedule. Ah, yes, thank you." He hands over another piece of paper, doing a quick read over all she wrote for the biography and skill grading, making sure her signature is in all the right places. "That paper has the list of electives you can take while studying at the Monastery. Professors Hanneman and Manuela are offering free classes in Crestology and Choir respectively."

Orange eyes zero in.

"Everyone goes with choir," Godfrey rolls his eyes. "Free and easy."

"Yes, well," Seteth glares at the man, "We are also offering Band this year."

Leonie's circling it as he speaks. She can afford it!

"Oh my," Seteth grins as he sees her option. Clears his throat. "Well, band practice will take place Tuesday evenings and Saturday mornings. As you can see, the cost is quite steep compared to the other electives, though it comes with the… benefit that any detentions you are to serve are… to be extra practice…"

"Who'd you manage to teach that?" Godfrey obviously picks up on Seteth's darkening aura. "Band hasn't been offered in decades."

The green haired man takes a deep breath. "My younger sister Flayn has come to the Monastery to teach it." Old green eyes try staring into Leonie's soul. "I trust you will be on your best behaviour for her, Ms. Pinelli."

_I wondered what she did during the day_. Leonie salutes, "You've got it, sir!"

Seteth drawls an unimpressed, "Indeed."

Leonie signs the last paper and steps away from the table.

"Before you go, there are a few things you should know since I don't believe anyone would have told you," Seteth sends another glare towards Godfrey. The green haired not-human does look a bit happier when he turns away from his silent scolding to the newest student, "Full-time students are required to assist with kitchen duty, whether it be hunting, cooking, or cleaning. As you are currently too early for the free student meals, you will either have to pay or give food to the chefs for them to make. If there is any problem, come by my office so we can make arrangements.

"Secondly, as you are not yet a student, you are prohibited from attending classes and using the library. Everywhere else is open if you want to look around, though please only use the training halls if no one has previously booked it. Current students are given priority over future and past students.

"Lastly, you are required to have a physical done before the school can accept you as a student, future or otherwise. Our Professor Manuela will have someone fetch you and your fellows later today. She will be performing the examination, and you have nothing to worry about."

_That sounds even more ominous. _"Okay, sir."

Seteth huffs a small breath. "Please, call me Seteth."

"Then call me Leonie. Fair's fair."

He smiles. "Indeed."

**5**.

After the knights have picked up the desk, after everyone has gone back to their rooms or to explore, Leonie puts her hands on her hips and doesn't say, _I'm mad at you_, "Thank you for recommending me."

"Always," Godfrey replies without thought. He winces. "I think you're the only one who really wants to be here."

"Well… I'll make sure they do well in class."

"That's not what I'm worried about," he puts his hands on her shoulders. "Don't let yourself become cannon fodder."

Taking it seriously, Leonie gets up on her toes and puts her hand on his biceps. "I won't."

"I mean it. From someone who's been sent to the front of the attack pattern more than he'd like, don't fall into the trap of thinking that's what you're good at. The school is supposed to train you to be all-around great."

Leonie thinks he misses the difference between cannon fodder and tank. Still, it's the thought that counts. "I'll write you letters still; let you know how it goes."

The man sighs. "Claude will kill me if you die before he realizes who _L_ is."

"Then to save you again, I won't die."

Always sounds easier than it is.

**6**.

The Monastery has real toilets.

_Indoor. F**king. Plumbing._

To say Leonie is over the moon about it is an understatement. The toilet paper is disgusting but at least there is some. The water closets may be located on the other side of the Monastery, but it's just another incentive to get into the full-time student dorms.

In the privacy of a thick stone enclosure, where no one can look at her, Leonie switches the diverter ward into the blocker wall.

It is intense, at first.

Like moving through a blanket, trying to wrap around her with _promises, promises_. Tries to mute down her already muted negative emotions. Tells the young woman_, your anger is invalid here_.

Leonie sweats a bit as she adjusts to the feedback. The great thing about all the magic in the air, it powers the block for her. She catches her breath within seconds, uncurling from the unconscious hunch.

When she goes to look in Crest vision, she's blinded by the silver coating everything. Leonie squeezes her eyes shut, seeing burnt shapes where there was the Crest blanket.

Blinks.

_Focus_.

It is much, much worse to realize not all the strands fighting for space in the blanket are spectral colours.

Her forebrain registers green while her midbrain sees not green.

The hindbrain screams, _**no**_.

Leonie finds herself afraid to return to Crest vision. She leaves the empty bathroom quickly, returning to her light jog around Monastery as though nothing's wrong.

As though something here isn't trying to smother human nature.

**7**.

"Thank you," Leonie smiles and nods at the knight who escorted her. This place is a lot more maze-like than she remembers.

Reality is always more detailed, after all.

"Come in," says the melodic voice at the knock.

Leonie ignores the itching over her skin and enters, "Hi there! My name's Leonie."

"Oh good," Manuela – _current professor of the Blue Lions_ – coos from a seat at the round table. "You'll be one of the Golden Deer students next year. I hope you're not as… _rowdy_ as others from the Alliance."

Leonie's hand tightens on the door, "I do what I can, ma'am."

"_Please_, none of that ma'am stuff," Manuela shivers. "I'm not that old. Now, shut the door and we can get on with this." Drains her tea and stands.

Leonie does as told, hesitant steps into the room. She can't remember _why_.

"My name is Manuela Casagranda, the Divine Songstress. Call me Professor Manuela. I am one of three house professors and the resident healer of Garreg Mach."

Leonie narrows in. _Not doctor_.

"Now," Professor Manuela pulls out a thin folder, spreading the papers on the table as she searches for an inkwell, "it says here you are Crestless?"

"… Yes professor."

"Then you won't need to see Hanneman after this. Let's see… Eyes, hair, yes, yes… Hmm… commoner, so an scars I can help with?"

Leonie is stiff as a board, "No, professor?"

"Are you sure?" the professor gives her a _look_. "I know several recipes to help fade scar tissue, and a method to hide them while it takes effect."

Leonie knows where this is going.

"It wouldn't do for any surprises when your future spouse sees your body, after all."

_Yep, just like the village_. "Thank you for the offer," is said through a kind smile and small gap between teeth. Hands clenched together behind her back. "But I am perfectly fine."

"Well then, I'll just see during the physical. We'll have to start on your dietary plan. Why, you're so thin that I don't think anyone would go for it. All those muscles, no curves. Have you ever even made it to an A Cup?"

Leonie takes a deep breath because – _body dysmorphia is a terrible likelihood with rebirth_ – she hasn't even seen herself in a mirror. Ripples on a pond, the metal on swords, only show so much. "I haven't used a bra before."

"Oh no! That won't do at all! It says here you have no allergies; I'll have everything I recommend you eat written by the end of the week. Now, strip down and go over to one of the beds. I'll be over in a moment."

Hesitantly – _so, so wary_ – Leonie goes down to what she's comfortable with. There is no shame in exposing herself – her new parents had to take care of her from rebirth, after all – but old habits die hard. Especially with clothing never tearing from the magic in the air. The only way someone will see her naked is over her cold, _d_e_a_d _**corpse**_.

Professor Manuela tuts, "All off, dear."

Maybe it's the pet name. Maybe it's the exposure and awful pondering if all students must go through this. Maybe it's because, deep down where the prejudice from lingering memories that can't tell her why, Leonie doesn't trust Manuela.

Orange eyes of steel, smile turned into the awful blank line, a nineteen years old young woman stares at an accomplished songstress and tells her, "_No_."

Suffice to say, everything devolves from there.

**8**.

Seteth sighs from across his desk, muttering something along the lines of, "just one day."

Leonie raises her eyebrows but otherwise doesn't move, seated and arms crossed. She's not smiling.

"Fine," he snaps, papers dropping and stern glare thrown her way, "if you won't do the physical, then you must complete an obstacle course tomorrow."

"Deal."

He blinks. Leans back slowly, waiting for a punchline.

"The other students get the offer too, _right_? So that it's fair?"

He lets out a long, slow breath. Glares at her in a way that one would when they wish to smite mortals. "I will inform Manuela to give them the option."

Leonie doesn't believe that woman will follow through. This is why she plans to spend the rest of the afternoon in the hall between instructor rooms. Lysithea is the first one to come, wondering, "Have you gone yet?"

Leonie answers a short, "yes," with a smile that's cool to the eye. Tells her about the offer Seteth has available, and ends with, "I'll be right outside. If you feel uncomfortable or need help getting out of there, just scream."

Lysithea comes out not long after, expression stormy as she moves to the room across the hall. "You'll help me through the obstacle course, right?"

"Of course."

A sharp nod. Professor Hanneman welcomes the white-haired girl in.

Marianne is escorted by soon after, hears Leonie's spiel, and leaves Manuela's room in the same amount of time as Lysithea did. Another one for the obstacle course.

Claude and Godfrey arrive, the older man obviously surprised she's here still, "I thought Claude was the last one to go?"

"I've already gone," her eyes latch onto the wonderful, unsmiling green of her future classmate. "Seteth's giving the option of doing an obstacle course instead of a physical exam. If you need an out, I'll burst in at screaming."

A bit of curiosity comes and goes. Easy smile thrown her way, "Hey, thanks Leonie. Kind of creepy knowing you're lurking, but my uncle hasn't stopped since we arrived."

"Then you're used to it," she drawls, watching him knock.

"Better you guys than Oswald, that's for sure."

When he goes into the room, she's got a frayed focus enough to ask, "Who's Oswald?"

"Duke Riegan," Godfrey leans against the wall with her, "my father. You know, you don't have to stay. Claude's not a kid."

_Doesn't matter_. "I'm here anyways. Besides, someone has to tell Seteth which of us are doing the course."

Godfrey hums, "Is there something I need to know?"

Leonie hears scuffling. "I'll tell you later."

She really hopes he sees this as _wrong_, too, otherwise she may have kicked the hornets' nest. _How much does the librarian know?_

Claude exits much faster than his peers had, tense and arms crossed, nails biting into his skin. Godfrey scolds him for that, and the teens laughs it off, showing a row of teeth to Leonie, "I'll be doing the course too."

"I'll let Seteth know."

Behind him, Manuela is pulling out a wine bottle from her medicine cabinet.

**9**.

"See, Lorenz!" Raphael booms as Leonie slides down across from them. "Now that's a healthy meal!"

Heir Gloucester is aghast, "Can you truly eat all of that?"

Leonie thinks this is rather light, considering that she now has money to pay for extra helpings as a non-student. She needs to work up to eating larger portions; her stomach is used to whatever she could find in the foliage. Getting used to spices will be a pain, "I have a high metabolism. I need all the energy I can get."

With all the magic in the air, maybe she will get some fat stores.

Claude whistles and slides next to her, Hilda taking his free side. Heir Riegan elbows her and winks, "Don't eat them out of house and home before we move in."

A string of anger has Leonie snorting, "I'll just hunt it all back. Speaking of, any plans while we wait for the student trials?"

Lorenz blatantly swallows the infuriation he has at Claude's lacking noble prestige. He looks every bit the hoity-toity noble reflected in more than half the student population in the cafeteria around them. "I plan to begin song practice and pray at the chapel, _as is expected of a noble's duty to the Goddess_."

Claude laughs off the shade, "I'm going exploring, after we win our health checks, of course."

"Well _I_," Lysithea is a dear who cuts in before anyone can ask, "am going to be reading. Professor Hanneman had some good topics I wish to discuss more with him at a later point, and I need to be prepared."

"Studying already?" Ignatz asks quietly. "I was going to look for the art room, if anyone wants to come."

"Aw, yah!" Raphael cheers, "I'm in! Marianne?"

"M-maybe after…" she twirls her spoon,

"We didn't get around to our physicals, so Seteth has us running an obstacle course to show we're fit enough for school," Leonie bluntly tells them, careful eye on the four who did them. Ignatz goes red, Raphael winces, and Lorenz looks like it didn't phase him. Hilda is staring at another table. In fact… "Hey, Hilda, what are your plans for tomorrow?"

Hilda doesn't appear to have heard them. Claude has to about push her over to get her attention, "Oh, sorry. What was it?"

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Lysithea asks, narrowed eyes as she tries to see what was so interesting.

"Oh," Hilda repeats again. Gaze turns over to a table where she proceeds to make heart eyes again, "I met a few students today. They've promised to show me around and help carry my shopping. Isn't that nice?"

Leonie follows the gaze.

Feels her gut sink as a red-haired girl waves from the table of Red Eagles.

"You mean you don't want to go exploring with me?" Claude's ribbing sounds distant as Leonie focuses on eating.

Hilda waves back, "Exploring a dusty old monastery? No thanks. You've seen one, you've seen them all."

Leonie keeps eating, heart not in the conversation anymore. Things to do, and problems abound. In the Church calendar, the year ends on the last day of March.

Never did she think she'd encounter pre-slither Monica.

**10**.

Godfrey and Leonie are sharing a pot of tea before bed. _Chamomile tea_, not her favourite, but good for relaxing. She likes stronger things, scents and tastes that remind her tea isn't just flavoured water.

The man pours some of the wine in his, tense lines all over his face. He's careful not to crush the thin cup as he drains the liquid. "No," Godfrey answers tightly, "that wasn't how our physical exams went when I was at the Monastery."

For starters, they had a real doctor. Real physicians.

_Why the cutback?_

"I'll have a talk with Seteth in the morning," Godfrey grinds his teeth, but Leonie feels they're from different backgrounds. What he sees as wrong and what she sees as wrong may overlap, but they are not perfectly aligned.

It's something, at least. A little faith that this version of humanity can still grow past the medieval setting.

"Can you do me a favour?"

Leonie pauses, cup to her mouth and ready to sip. Meets his look, eyebrows raised. "What is it?"

"Make sure this obstacle course isn't a one-time thing."

Her grin is a little too toothy to be nice, "You read my mind."

Cheers to meeting her year mates early.

* * *

**A/N:** **The day started out so well…**

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to xenocanaan, ShadowWolf223,** **Genin, ChickenPotPie, IReadNoNonsense, MiserableSOUL660, HersheyBby, PsychedAnon, mothedman, JoshuaFangurl, BlueBunnyims, and TheGiantRock for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**It didn't feel right to post this chapter without having the next one ready to go. So, double update. **

**Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone has a fantastic day**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

**1**.

Under the cover of _Silence_, Leonie leaves as dawn arrives, not a sound waking her roommates.

In the courtyard she stretches, quietly greeting the knights who pass by with eyes on her. She's too hyper aware of the strange, new place. Falling asleep was a test of will.

_Three laps_, Leonie decides, reaching up and rolling onto her toes. One lap to get a feel for the route, one to determine stamina, and one slow one to cool down and estimate time before breakfast. The real challenge will be to stop from cheating, the magic around her begging to be used. She needs her strength for the obstacle course. Needs to know her baseline can deal running around like a human-Goddess-vessel can with their infinite stamina.

_Match, and surpass._

She goes up instead of down, past the barracks and eyeing the graveyard for only a moment.

_Wouldn't do well to leave flowers on the grave when who knows where Jeralt's wife is officially buried. Count the graves and leave prayers at them all if needs must._

Around and through the chapel, making enemies by being cheerful towards the not-morning-people praying.

_Statues of the four saints made of gold. So this __**isn't**__ the first time._

Over the bridge and towards the training grounds.

_So few knights on the ground. The air knights are the real threats, doing all those patrols._

Past the working sauna and bathrooms, down the rows of full-time student dorms.

_The current Golden Deer teacher – Professor Maence – is retiring. Jeritza gets that room, leaving the room closest to the training grounds free for the next professor._

Leap down the stairs to the greenhouse. Sharp turn to go past the pond.

_They're both so large. Fish for days, and possible rumors of students getting lost in the forestry. _

By the-

"Hello there!"

"Good morning!" Leonie slows to a jog in front of the gatekeeper. Introduces herself proper when he asks.

Can't see under his helmet, but he feels trustworthy. Small chat and continue on to the stables.

_Seems like a nice guy. Hold out on liking him, though. This place doesn't seem to attract responsible adults._

Stables, to barracks, and begin again. It's a long run, but good practice. A good pattern to make herself noticeable, because after this she'll be running with the diverter ward on.

_What better way to be annoying, than to hide in plan sight?_

**2**.

"Morning Claude," Leonie slides across from him, pointedly ignoring how he chokes.

"Good morning, Leonie," he gives the award-winning smile, eyes tired. "Morning person?"

"Early training person," she corrects, slipping a couple fruits into her bag for later. Claude watches but says nothing. "New day, new energy."

"Enough to go exploring with me later?"

"Can't," she makes a face, showcasing displeasure. _Lies_. "I've got to go shopping for things, get everything settled with Seteth, excreta. Would have loved to explore."

It _is_ what she's going to do after the obstacle course. Just the more… _unconventional_ exploring.

"There's always next time," his smile _looks_ real. Claude is _good_ at this.

"Absolutely," she finally stares eating. "Anywhere you're looking in particular?"

"Well, since we can't see the library yet…" he props a hand under his chin, "I was thinking I'd look around. Learn a culture the old-fashioned way."

"Architecture," she nods, vaguely impressed.

"Exactly," he shows off some teeth in surprise. "You know, not many people get that."

"It's the number one thing I notice." _Where are the exits, where are the handholds? How do I blend in?_ "I'm a small-town girl, though. _Everything_ is different from where I grew up."

"Oh yah?" there's a sudden light to his eyes. "I bet this has all been a big change. Rather _shocking_, right?"

She grins, neither confirming nor denying. "I still have my appetite, so it's all good. From what I've seen the students eat, _that's_ going to be the shock to my system. Real food? With seasoning? Perish the thought."

Claude snorts, the light dying away as he goes back to eating as well, "I've never heard that expression before."

"Small village commoner," Leonie uses as an excuse. "I probably have a lot of weird mannerisms."

"You eat like a noble. I think you'll fit in just fine."

Leonie coughs to hide her snort. "Like a Deer noble, or an Eagle noble?"

Claude does laugh, "Not a Lion?"

"I've seen a book on their table mannerisms. It's not worth the extra practice."

Claude smiles, that light back in his eyes. "Here, here."

**3**.

The obstacle course before them is a mess of broken cart wheels, precariously hammered together boards, and a climbing frame that just one glance screams _get the tetanus shot ready_. With all the magic in the air, this would have been child's play for Leonie after all these years surviving in her backyard woods.

Marianne looks ready to cry. Lysithea isn't doing much better

_Don't show off,_ laughs a voice in her head. It sounds like Jeralt._ You need to make it look like they have things to teach you._

"So," Leonie sidles up beside Claude, keeping an eye on where Godfrey is stalling Seteth for her, "How are we going about this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I can carry Lysithea or Marianne over all the obstacles," she could probably do both, but isn't sure how that would effect her balance, "except for the bars. They'd have to hold on to me while I swing across."

Claude rubs the back of his neck, thoughtful. "The goal is to show off our physical strengths, right? Make sure we're up to date on health checks?"

"We can build up stamina before the year begins if we need to. All Seteth required is that we pass the finish line after crossing all of the obstacles in place."

A real grin splits, green eyes meeting orange, "And you think I can make fine?"

"I'd carry you if I thought you couldn't."

He laughs and nods over to the metal bars. "What about going over?"

Leonie feels a real smile brighten her face. _Didn't even think of that_. "I'll get on top and help you three up."

"What, you think I'm slow?"

"It's my _job_ to be faster."

He blinks, taken aback. "I want to hear that story later. You take Lysithea, then."

"Are you sure?" Leonie hums, frown coming back as she looks at the long dress Marianne's wearing. The younger teen is shaking while her father tries to calm her.

"She's probably the lighter of the two, even with all the tomes she's hiding. I won't trip, if that's what you're worried about."

"Okay then," she nods. "Are you good getting over the ramps?"

"Wouldn't hurt if you waited for me…"

Leonie grins again, a little less real for her but exactly the same as her usual. "I'll let the girls know. Make sure Godfrey hasn't driven Seteth to drink yet, yah?"

Claude chuckles. Winks. "Who's to say I don't join in?"

Leonie waves over her shoulder, "Be my guest."

Not like she cares about them.

**4**.

Seteth repeats the requirements. Around the course stand knights, part-time students, and the four who went before Leonie's meeting with Manuela.

_It's meant to shame us._

She knows the tactic. Ignatz and Raphael may cheer them on, but the others have come to stare at social-norm breakers. Hilda awkwardly stands back, avoiding looking at them as she talks with the part-time students from yesterday. Lorenz has already made his displeasure of their choice clear, Leonie's in turn given him a ten-minute dressing down on _who sees what parts of my body is my choice_. He is quiet now, visibly disagreeing but no longer saying it.

The knights are here to watch them fail their training course.

The part-time students, to laugh at their mistakes.

Seteth is the only church official. He eyes them, "This is your last chance to back out."

Marianne swallows. Lysithea bares her teeth in a grin.

"We'll be fine," Claude assures them all. "It's not like this is hard." Taunting them.

Leonie sets her feet apart, bends the knees, "Just tell us when to go already!"

Seteth lets out a disappointed breath. Steps to the side, "On your marks?

"_Go!"_

Marianne and Lysithea step forward first. Lysithea jumps, Leonie seemingly appearing from nowhere to loop an arm around her waist. While Lysithea settles on her shoulder, Claude scoops up Marianne in a bridal carry.

"There! Left!" Lysithea shouts, directing them to the unseen obstacles. Marianne throws out a hand, muttering prayers, lighting up the sections they shouldn't touch with a strong _Heal_.

"Good job," Claude pants, lifting knees high over buried cart wheels.

Marianne whimpers and hurries to keep up with Lysithea's instructions.

Meanwhile, Leonie's practically bounding over every foot coordination obstacle. She's not getting too far ahead, is too focused on the track and teammates to hear what's going on around them. The important thing it is to, Not.

Miss.

A.

Beat.

"How do you have the breath to hum?" Lysithea grumbles, sliding from the shoulder at the bars.

Leonie doesn't answer, pulling herself up the bars and using magic to keep a solid force between her skin and the rust. They have to wait for Claude and Marianne. He's puffing worse, cupping his hands to get Lysithea the extra boost. Leonie pulls her up, they repeat with Marianne. Then, she boosts _Strength_ to heave him on top, "Tired?"

"Just need to catch my breath," he denies, wobbling as he finds a footing.

Leonie is the only thing holding the three steady. She purses her lips, looks between the teammates, "Claude, Marianne, can you two get across the bars?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes?"

"I'll take Lysithea to the end and come back for you," she says this directly for Marianne. "Claude, start running as soon as you're on the ground."

"Hey now-"

"We don't have to pass together," Leonie glares, "and you won't be able to make it over the ramps with extra weight. I can handle this."

"Well…" he's frowning. Leonie feels a moment of his Crest trying to hit her directly. "If you're sure…"

"Do we get a say in this?" Lysithea grumbles.

Marianne is smart and already moving across the bars.

"Nope," Leonie slings her on her back and begins hopping from one side bar to another. _Can't let a foot fall through the middle._

Lysithea grumbles quietly, only doing something a few minutes later when faced with a brick wall that's intended to be scaled. The young teen throws out an arm and summons a dark, toxic _Miasma._ It leaves a person-sized hole in the bottom middle, along with a bit of brick dust.

"Thanks," Leonie chirps.

"See?" Lysithea grumbles, not having heard her. "I'm not useless."

Leonie drops her mere feet away from the finish line and starts the run back without seeing if she crosses. She hits the top of a ramp after the brick wall, watching Claude jog through. She holds out a hand, which he gratefully takes. Once he's over, she's _running_ for Marianne.

The teen is panting but has made it through two obstacles on her own. Leonie squats, a smile thrown over her shoulder, "Ready to go?"

"Thank you," Marianne whispers on a harsh breath, arms hanging loosely around Leonie's neck. The blue haired teen buries her head in her ride's shoulder, hiding the tears.

Claude and Lysithea are waiting for them at the finish line, bickering about the hole in the wall. Leonie feels her grin fall into something smaller, sweeter. She's used to competitive, not teamwork. The kill and move along, not for someone to want to wait for her.

Marianne climbs down and they jog the rest of the way. Leonie makes sure to be last, even if Claude seems to have the same thought. This is her punishment to bear, and she'll fight tooth and nail to make sure they all end up enrolled. That every student who refuses the physical gets enrolled.

Seteth marches over, looking _very_ displeased at how that went down. Leonie squares her shoulders, holds her head high, and goes to speak.

Only for Claude to step forward and take charge, "Well, how did we do?"

He even goes partly in front of her, taking most of the crowd's attention.

Leonie…

…isn't she how she feels about that.

**5**.

Conclusion: they all pass.

_Wow, did that ever get stressful_, Leonie thinks as she walks away from their victory lunch. Godfrey and co. moved their departure to the next day because of all the extra problems that have appeared since his chat with Seteth. Something about how they're still hunting for a teacher to replace Professor Maence.

It gives her time to slip out and begin exploring. Lets her test if anyone notices the magic she surrounds in with _Invisibility_. When no one is around, Leonie springs up every anti-detection ward she has, the diverter ward coming back and letting her breathe a little easier.

With _Sticky_ _Fingers_, she begins the long climb to the rafters. Least intruding tests first, and then in a few weeks begin the more expel-worthy ones.

What she really needs to do, is find the place where Jeralt is supposed to die.

And then, where is the perfect place to stop it?

**6**.

By accident, she hears the keys of a piano. Leonie crawls down the wall in the abandoned-looking wing of the monastery. Knocks at the door when there's a break.

"Hello?" comes the sweet-voiced response.

"Hello," Leonie pushes open the slight crack to see a girl-like woman at the seat. Her hands are raised – _remember, curve your fingers like you're holding eggs_ – above the pristine white keys of a grand piano. Leonie hasn't been sure those existed here – _don't slam the keys; honestly, it's like I haven't been teaching you for years_ – it certainly hadn't been on the list of instruments. "Sorry to interrupt, I was wondering if this was going to be the band room."

"It is!" cheers the woman-girl. She quickly stands, straightening out her skirt. Mint green hair puffs around her head like a well-maintained hedge. "My name is Flayn! I am the new band instructor."

"Leonie," she introduces with a wave, coming in and returning the door to how she found it. Easier to focus on this, shoving the old memories of lessons to the recedes of her mind.

Flayn brightens at the name, "My- brother told me you are my newest student! It is an honor to meet you!"

"It is an honor to meet you," Leonie chuckles, feeling cold inside. She doesn't appreciate how, even with the Crest blocker and not having the diverter on, these Crest Stone people can see by trying to latch on. Seteth was at least subtle about it, Flayn's steel threads are poking like a curious child. "I can't tell you how excited I was to hear singing wasn't the only instrument they offered lessons for."

Flayn giggles, "Most people think singing is the highest form of music here. I hope to teach others the importance of instrumental melodies, however…" her smile falls, "you are currently the only student assigned to my class."

_No one wants to dish out the extra to something they'll never use again_. Leonie spreads out her hands and says, "Their loss. More students will join, we are a month and a half away from the new year. But if it's just the two of us," she makes a fist and flexes, "we'll show them all the power of music with our spirit and determination."

Flayn laughs again, a lovely harmonic sound.

Leonie doesn't appreciate the thought of getting to know her. Appears like she'll have to do some recruiting to the band class.

"I will look forward to it," Flayn says with earnest. "Oh, would you like to learn how to tune a piano? It is what I was doing just now."

In the back of her head, Leonie starts cursing. "Sure."

There goes a day of exploring.

**7**.

"_Where_ do you keep getting those books?" Hilda bemoans as she returns to the dorm room only to find Leonie and Lysithea read books that are at least a palm's length in width.

"I brought them with me," Lysithea doesn't look up.

"Lysithea's lending me hers," Leonie has lowered her book to smile – _eye_ – the female students carrying in Hilda's shopping. "Who are your friends?"

"Leonie, Lysithea, these are Arial von Fontaine, Krista Weber, and Monica von Ochs. Ladies, on the top bunk in Lysithea von Ordelia and on the bottom is Leonie."

Leonie ignores the insult of being introduced without her last name to wave, "Nice to meet you all."

Takes attentive note to Monica's red hair. Something niggles in her brain, wondering _how many people here have some red in their hair?_

The only females she's seen are all in this room. Herself, Hilda, and Monica. There were a few males with burgundy, Lorenz has purple, but no straight orange or red.

_This will need further investigating._

"Oh, it's so great to meet new people!" Monica squeals. "You're all Golden Deer students, right? Or, well, I guess future students. I'm a _Red_ Eagle, but I can still give you tons of great advice! If you want. There's lots to do, oh! And maybe you'll want to transfer into the _Red_ Eagle class! We're a lot of fun, I promise!"

Hilda sneaks glances at her crush as she arranges clothing and bags with the other girls.

Leonie keeps smiling, pretending she isn't imagining all the ways she could kill this teenager. "Are you a full-time student?"

"Yes! It was really hard to get in, but it was worth every effort! Hey, do you girls want to hear about the entrance tests?"

Lysithea finally puts her book down, legs hanging over her bed, "That sounds wonderful."

_I could kill every single one of you right now_, Leonie thinks, listening with a keen ear. _Derail everything._

She doesn't.

It isn't worth the extra effort.

**8**.

"Come on," Claude whines at dinner, but Leonie can see his heart isn't in it. "Doesn't anyone want to explore with me. Lysithea?"

A blunt, "Reading."

Hilda reinstates her plans when he turns eyes on her. She's dragged Marianne into them, somehow.

"S-sorry, Claude," Ignatz blushes, as he looks away, "I'm meeting with the art club president tomorrow. I don't know how long it will take."

"Sorry Claude," Raphael says after swallowing. "I've got to get back on my workout routine. A couple of the students offered to show me the training sites."

"There are better things to do with our time than explore," Lorenz says hauntingly, a disdainful look thrown Claude's way.

Because she has her blocking ward on, Claude turns his pleading – _fake_ – eyes on Leonie. She undoes her thinking pose, "I can join you after lunch. The band teacher is showing me how to tune some instruments in the morning."

"I'll take it!" he cheers, though his eyes are taken aback. Like he thought no one would go with him. _Strange_. "Speaking of, did everyone get their meal recommendations."

Leonie full-body snorts, getting more than her future classmate's gazes. _It's completely useless_. Either Manuela doesn't have nutrition training, or she's taking out her anger on Leonie. Neither would surprise the orangette. "Oh, I got mine alright."

Throws the scrap of paper on the table.

Everyone takes a turn looking at it. Ignatz is the first to say, "I don't see anything wrong with it…?"

"Not only are several of those top foods high in cholesterol, I'm only recommended leafy green vegetables, which means-"

Hilda slams her hands on the table, "I thought it was just me!"

"Wait," Lysithea looks between them, "what am I missing?" Marianne leans over and whispers into the younger teen's ear. Lysithea looks horrified, "Did any of you guys get that all-greens recommendation?"

"No?" Claude flicks the paper back to Leonie. "Why?"

They all let out a varying stressed and angered, "_No reason_."

"But wait," Leonie jumps in before someone can ask again, "did no one else get the high cholesterol recommendation?"

Lorenz steeples his fingers, "What does cholesterol mean?"

Leonie pauses a moment before rubbing her temples, eyes closed. _Another slip-up to explain_.

**9**.

In the dead of night, Leonie inks a spot onto the wall. Carefully pulls all the magic in the air into it, and grossly puts a licked finger on top.

Currently, their room is now one of the safest places in the whole of Garreg Mach Monastery.

Leonie stumbles into bed and passes out, finally able to drop into a deeper sleep.

(Lysithea wakes up and, for the first time since gaining two Crests, the burning in her veins is gone.)

**10**.

"So, this is it huh?" Leonie grin wryly up at the noble. "You good if I still write?"

"I'm looking forward to it," he grins, green eyes so lovely and a familiar sight. She's going to miss that. "Keep me updated on how everyone is, and I'll let you know about job offers that come up."

Leonie rolls her eyes, _same old tricks_. "Sure."

"And, hey," he steps forward and wraps her in a hug.

Leonie freezes long enough for instinct to take over. She tries not to squeeze too hard as a bout of separation anxiety takes hold.

"Don't feel like you have to stay here. My door's always open."

Her voice sounds strangely choked, "Even if I get expelled?"

"Especially then."

"T-" she has to swallow, "Thanks."

He's grinning when he steps back, hand ruffling her hair. "You're a good kid, Leonie. Good luck handling the rest of them."

She glances over with him, to where Lorenz is berating Claude, who's staring at them with an almost real smirk. To Ignatz and Raphael, who say goodbye to knights they've grown up with. Hilda talks with a few of her brother's friends, Lysithea awkwardly standing beside her. Marianne crying against her father's chest.

"It will be interesting, that's for sure."

Alone in a dragon's den with a bunch of baby predators. What could possibly go wrong?


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

**1**.

Cats.

The ones with too-intelligent gleams watch her run. Not a single animal follows Leonie, but they see through her diverter ward with ease. The implication of that is rather frightening.

So is the fact the gatekeeper greets her before she greets him, however _that_ could be attributed to hearing her running. No, he's not as suspicious as the cats.

Leonie thinks she might have liked cats, once upon a time. It's rather hard now, when they watch her with their keen gazes. Eyes following her. _Everywhere_.

Trees. Windowsills. Benches, stairs, out-of-the-way pockets of sun or shade. She wants to turn into Crest vision, if only for a moment. The itch to confirm her theory remains, overshadowed by the worry of who they could report to if she's right.

Leonie slows to a light jog as more people begin to take to the pathways.

Still, the intelligent cats watch only her.

**2**.

No one could pay her to put her mouth on a wind instrument, so today Flayn has them tuning string instruments. Leonie is specifically on a cello, humming as she plucks a tune of Deep Purple's: Smoke on the Water.

_Colours, colours, everywhere_, Leonie think, smirking as Flayn giggles and joins in with her viola. They've spent a few hours already going over the violins, the Crest threads from the stone of Flayn's heart lighting-up the air with music. Unfortunately, the girl-woman knows no restraint, letting it freely touch and linger a claim on all it can with soft zaps. Even against the diverter ward, she wraps and tries to hold, to bind.

"Oh," Flayn breathes, eyes alight, "we simply must have an improvisation class one day. Maybe I can find some unused sheet music and we can write our own songs for homework. That would be delightful!"

If Leonie never has to sing another Church of Seiros hymn, it will still be too soon. "That could be fun! We could even try different types of music. Do you have a favourite, professor?"

Flayn smiles that second of bright eagerness every time Leonie calls her professor. It always fades into something thoughtful, but at least _she_ is excited to teach. "Well… do not let my brother know, but I have come to enjoy more of the screaming music than the steady peacefulness of the music here."

Leonie feels her eyes go as wide as her smile.

"Not to say the Church music is bad," Flayn quickly defends, "I only have preference for more of the loud and scratchy singing voices. The music here reminds me of many lullabies and comforting times of when I was younger. It is familiar, peaceful, but I do enjoy the shock and heart pounding of a loud and sharp ballad."

Heavy metal and – officially – rock n' roll have yet to be invented in Fódlan, so the fact Flayn has heard anything like it is extraordinary. "That sounds amazing! Do you think we could do anything like that here?"

"Oh no, no," she is quick to deny. "Lady Rhea and my brother have refused that as part of the curriculum. We are to prepare songs for Church celebrations, and the dance, of course."

_Of course_, Leonie think angrily, smile not faltering, "Oh well, maybe next year then."

"It would be nice," Flayn agrees before catching sight of someone in the doorway behind Leonie. The becoming, unfortunately, familiar feeling grass and dirt gives him away. "Good morning, brother."

Leonie leans back, unknowingly showing off her core muscles as she balances on the stool with the closest thing to a headmaster upside down in her view, "Hi Seteth."

"Flayn. _Leonie_," the human's name is spoken like a true life stressor. Obviously, his daughter is his favourite. Leonie's still curious who the mother- _focus_. "I do hope I am not interrupting."

"No," Flayn sighs, dejectedly plucking the viola's string. "We should be cleaning up soon. I will join you for lunch in an hour."

"Of course, but that was not what I was here to talk about."

Both women pause to stare unnervingly at him.

"Leonie," his distaste is palatable after the silence, "I have received some complaints about you running through the chapel in the early morning. Please stop."

Flayn makes a noise that could be a horrified gasp but could also be the start to a laugh. Leonie doesn't look away from the older Crest Stone, "Of course. I didn't realize it was bothering anyone."

_Byleth got to do it all the time_. Main Characters get away with so much.

Seteth deadpans like he doesn't believe her, "Yes, well, sprinting through the middle of a priest's sermon has that effect."

Leonie doesn't frown, _I wasn't sprinting_. She nods, "Okay. I won't do it again."

His eyes are like laser beams, "Good." He nods to his daughter. "Flayn."

When he's gone, Flayn chokes on her words before huffing out a breathy, "Y-you ran through the chapel?"

"I was doing laps around the Monastery, and it's a perfect loop if I do!"

"Oh my," and with that, Flayn breaks into peals of giggles.

Leonie doesn't like how Flayn doesn't stand up for herself or her likes, but at least she gets the humor of the situation. Hopefully she can train the woman to stop being so underhanded in her wins by the time the plot comes around. Maybe that way she can actually _join a class_ instead of relying on the Main Character to shelter her in order to further her education and friendships.

Hopefully there will be a substitute when she eventually goes missing.

_Stop. Focus._

_It doesn't matter._

**3**.

"What are you still doing here?" Leonie asks, shutting the door.

"Reading," Lysithea snipes back.

"Obviously, but why in here? There's plenty of shade or seats outside, a lot healthier to be reading out there then in here."

Pink eyes glare from the top bunk, eventually turning back as Leonie begins to change, "I can read wherever I want to."

"Yah, but some fresh air won't hurt," Leonie buttons up the white shirt, more presentable than her patchwork things if anyone watches. "Come on, I'm going for lunch and then exploring with Claude. At least come get some food with me."

At the mention, the girl's stomach rumbles. A light splash of red heats up the pale girl's cheeks, "Fine!"

"That's the spirit! And, hey, if you're tired or something, I can just carry you around."

"I'm not _helpless_!"

**4**.

"Hey Leon- Lysithea?" Claude pauses.

"Hope you don't mind," Leonie grins unabashed, arms keeping the smaller female on her back. Lysithea waves with one hand, reading with another. "She needed some air."

"_She_ is right here," Lysithea barbs, snapping the book shut. Nods, "Claude."

"The more the merrier," he's quick to bounce back. "I was thinking about walking through the lower village today. How about it?"

Leonie does the mental calculations in her head, "Sounds good!" A lot of walking. Lysithea doesn't have the stamina for it yet. In fact, Raphael might be the only obviously fit enough to do the hike.

"Why would you want to walk through the village?" Lysithea almost sounds like she's complaining as she leans further on her mount when they begin moving.

"Why _not_ walk through the village," Leonie counters. "It's a beautiful day, it's good to get a lay of the land, and there's nothing really better to do. We've got ages before we have to start school."

Claude breaks in, smile twitching, "And won't it be nice to meet some more people? Maybe get a few hints on how the year looks for the students, or learn the history of the Monastery?"

"We could just as easily get those here," Lysithea mutters.

Leonie snorts, "But where's the adventure?"

"In fantasy novels," the girl grumbles, flipping on the hood of Leonie's warming cloak the moment they step outside.

"Good afternoon, Leonie!"

"Good afternoon, Sir Gatekeeper!"

"You're already getting on with the Knights?" Claude asks, sounding impressed yet gaze critical.

"Only the few I see on my morning run. I hear that the Captain is returning from a mission soon. I really want to pick his brain if I ever get a moment."

Both the teens look at her odd, Lysithea asking, "Pick his _brain_?"

"It means to get his thoughts on a matter. Though, according to the people I asked, he's more likely to tell bad jokes at a new audience."

Claude perks up, "Sounds like a _fun_ guy."

Lysithea groans over Leonie's clicked teeth. "Well, I'm perfectly happy to stay away from the knights. Some of them radiate killing intent."

"Wait," Leonie cranes her neck to see both her passenger and the future house leader, "is that a thing? Can people actually radiate killing intent?"

They both look at her like she's an idiot.

"Do you…" Lysithea tries to find the words, "_not_ feel a sense of impending doom when Marianne gets all sad and quiet?"

"_No?_ Should I?"

"…I don't know whether to be jealous or not," Lysithea digs her elbows into Leonie's shoulders. "Claude, you understand what I'm saying, right?"

"Yes," he blinks, that fake smile coming back. "Hilda's is the _worst_. You're pretty good at it, too, kid."

"Thank- I am not a child! Yours is terrible, by the way! No one is going to take you seriously!"

"I take Claude seriously?" Leonie mutters.

He flashes teeth, "Why, thank you, Leonie. I'm sure they'll teach you how to use it, though I know Raphael and Ignatz can only do it a little. I think it has something to do with Crests."

Lysithea turns her rage into productive thinking, still glaring at Claude though. "That would make sense… I mean, I don't know many commoners, but the few people I know who don't wield Crests have never intimidated me before."

"I will definitely be looking forward to learning that, then," Leonie nods. "That would be a perfect talent to have if a client ever tried to screw me over."

Claude asks, almost quietly, "Are you still planning on becoming a mercenary?"

"Of course. Mainly, I want to see the world."

He hums, seems to rethink what he says next, "Where would your first stop be?"

"Making sure you all get home safely," Leonie laughs, a happy sound, as though she isn't thinking about the Monastery evacuation. There is a memory – a cutscene – that comes unbidden, "but only if I think you need the extra help at the end of the year. I'm sure we'll all be capable fighters, eventually."

_Do or die._

**5**.

When they get to what Leonie is doing the next day, she puts down the dinner fork with a swallowed hum. "I was thinking about going hunting. Maybe shopping, but I really want to see the different plants and animals around the Monastery's forests and old ruins."

"Ugh," Lysithea makes a face, "I am _not_ going with you."

Lorenz politely warns, "Make sure to check which areas we are allowed in. It wouldn't do to get caught out of bounds."

_But where's the fun in that?_ "I'll ask Sir Gatekeeper tomorrow. Hey, is the art room open between classes?"

Ignatz jerks back at the sudden attention, "Um, yes. I believe so."

"Awesome! I want to take a look around some time. Oh, and Raphael, can I join you for training sometime?"

"Absolutely!"

"You still need to go shopping," Hilda sniffs in thought, gaze between her roommates, "all of you."

"We'll have to make a day of it!" Leonie agrees over Lysithea's moaning and Marianne's whimper.

"May I come?" Lorenz interjects. "I find myself in need of a new kettle."

"We should all go," Claude grins. "I am positive there's something we all need."

"Then it's settled," Hilda sniffs. "We'll do it sometime in the week of Pegasus Moon."

"Hey, Lysithea," Claude drawls out. Leonie isn't sure, but she thinks there's something _odd_ about how he says, "isn't your birthday coming up?"

Everyone turns to the girl, who's face turns a stunning red as she demands, "How did you know that?"

He wiggles his fingers, "Magic."

Leonie cracks up, choking on her dinner. Everyone else stares when she chugs down her water. She slams the glass, pained smile towards the youngest, "What do you want to do for you birthday?"

"I don't want to do anything," Lysithea lies.

_Adorable_.

Leonie leans back while the others take lead in organizing something, the white-haired girl's protests dying as she fights a smile with annoyance. Claude shares a grin with the eldest before needling on what to get as a present.

_The least I can do_, Leonie thinks, _is let them enjoy surviving another year_.

It's not like she likes any of them, after all.

**6**.

"I don't understand why Lady Rhea lets the Abyss stand," complains one of the holy women walking beneath Leonie's spot on the ceiling of the ruins. "They're nothing but uncouth hooligans."

"The Ashen Wolves are the worst," grumbles the walking partner. "A fourth house? Pah, that should never stand. If word got out that…"

Leonie doesn't follow them, choosing to scurry on after they've passed. The bats and owls are a pain to get around – what with being _Invisible_ and _Silent_ – but it's not the grossest stealth mission she's undergone. It's not the first time she's heard people complain about the so-called Abyss, but it's only ever the higher ranking, older members of the Church. By the name, she's guessing it's underground, and now's not the time to go looking there.

Around and then down. There are plenty of old structures and hidden alcoves to search. Already, Leonie's found several small bags of coins and weapon cashes. After dispelling the enchantments on each, she stores them away for better – cooing – _viewing_ pleasure when she finds the alone time. The dust layering them is disturbed by her appearance anyway; why not take it all?

Still can't bring herself to attack a deer when it comes time to cover her mission with an obvious scavenge. Looks like it's wild boar tonight.

**7**.

"What _are_ the final exams?" Leonie wonders, watching with her fork dangling as an Eagle student and Lion student stand on a table. Their faces are going red from trying to shout their view of an answer, fists are raised and knives are brandished, but ten feet apart as to not instigate conflict with the other house.

Not to be outdone, a Golden Deer slams their foot on their table and begins _serenading_ their own answer.

"A written and a practical," Lysithea answers when it appears their own future housemates are too enamoured with the scene to listen. "The written is made by the leader of another house, while the practical is done by the fighting instructor. Professor Jeritzahas a tournament, from what I've been told. The Black Eagles won last year, so the other houses have booked all the spare time leading up to the exam to try and-"

The teen only stops because Leonie is full-on choking, not that anyone else notices. They're too busy with the moderate chaos of housemates trying to calm down their table-standers before the knights arrive to escort them to Seteth. Leonie, meanwhile, is having her worldview shattered as her brain processes _BlackEaglesBlackEaglesBlackEagles_-

Lysithea leans away, hesitant, "Are you okay?!"

"Peachy," Leonie croaks, swallowing her own regurgitated spit. "Are they actually called _Black_ Eagles?"

"…"

"…"

"-_but the magic of the world was blessed by the Goddess, and Merrik only studied heretics_-"

"What did you _think_ they were called?!"

"_Red_ Eagles," Leonie stresses, pointing to the red and black individual screaming their logic. "_Blue_ Lions," points to the blue and black individual shouting their religion. "_Golden_ Deer," the person who let their friends drag them back into their seat. "I thought they were all primary colours!"

"Gold isn't-" Lysithea cuts off, disgusted. "_Commoner_. Right." _Yes_, Leonie feels very offended by that observation, not that she lets it show. "There's a petition that circulates every few decades. Lady Rhea and the other past archbishops have always turned it down, but the students try to fight for… I guess colour equality? The point is that legally there are Black Eagles, Blue Lions, and Golden Deer. People call the Eagle house Red Eagle in hopes it will stick and that Lady Rhea will be forced to change it."

_M*****f_*-

Leonie has been getting it wrong for years. She can't remember when she forgot the real name and started associating the houses with three colours.

If she's hyperfixated with _this_, changed _this_ narrative in her mind, what else-

"Okay," Leonie keeps her breathing shallow, forces the smile in place. "So, why not Yellow Deer?"

"Because gold is still a shade of yellow, and it's a little hard to disprove when there's so many golden deer being spotted in Leicester. Not as many people call it Yellow Deer. Would _you_?"

_No_, Leonie thinks, a certain deer in her mind. Shakes her head. _I wouldn't disrespect him like that._

"Exactly," Lysithea crosses her arms smugly. They both turn at the shrieks of the table-students being torn off by the Knights of Seiros. "Well… now you know."

"Now I know," Leonie mutters, going back to eating her dinner now that the show's over. She knew her memory couldn't be trusted, but this is a whole other level.

What else is she getting wrong?

What else is _going_ to go wrong?

…Worry about it later. Food first. With enough energy, any problem can be magicked or punched into submission if the need arises.

**8**.

If any person had bothered to look, they would have seen a blur.

Now, that's not fair. It isn't the fault of the Crested and Crestless that Leonie tests _Notice-Me-Not_ charms like friendship bracelets. Add another charm here and there _and here and there_ until no one turns a head. Under _Silence_ and _No Pressure_, nothing her actions do affect the world around her in noticeable ways.

Leonie does not even realize what she is doing as she thinks, _do not notice me_.

A test that is maybe too effective.

Magic, jumping around and eager. Threads, tearing and producing it.

Just as no one sees her, no one notices the Crestless knight bump into the ladder and continue on. Leonie _sees_ as the person on top wobbles, eyes darting past her in effort to steady.

It is the first time in the hour that someone looks her way. Even if they don't _see_ her, she feels the eyes.

Leonie goes from walking to sprinting. If any person could look, if any of her wards or charms dipped, they would have seen her blur as _Speed_, _Heal_, _Strength_ activate with barely a thought. _No Pressure_ means no wind, the cast-off forces pressing back on her. Keeping her together as the magic attempts to seep past feelings and into her thoughts.

Into her blood and skin and-

_Stop_.

The boy in her arms blinks, "W-what?"

"Are you okay?" Leonie still smiles, carefully easing him onto the ground. He holds onto her arm until the shock begins to recede. "That was a nasty fall."

"I'm fine," the boy replies stiffly. He has some of the darkest skin she's seen in the Monastery yet. Eyes an orange with a wider ring in them then she's seen in most people.

She's memorized the face of the guard like she did the bad parents in her village. No need to jump to conclusions, but better safe than sorry, "Do you want me to hold the ladder for you?"

"No," he turns away and begins gathering his fallen towels and bucket.

"You'd be doing me a favour," Leonie treats him like the prideful children of her village. "I was just wandering around looking for something to do. Please?"

He stares at her, deadpan, nearly rolling his eyes. At her smiling face, he scoffs, "Well… I guess…"

"Thanks!" She waits until he starts climbing back up to hold the rickety wooden thing in place. Leonie thinks it's distasteful to have him – a shorty so young – climb so high just to polish the Monastery's wall. "My name is Leonie, by the way."

"Cyril," he bites back. "If you're so bored, I have lots of chores to do."

"Can I join sometime?" she asks honestly.

He gives her another disbelieving stare, this time asking, "_Why?!"_

"Well, I'm going to join the Officer's Academy in a few months. There's not too much to do in the meantime, and if I help out then I get to know this place better. And Seteth won't have any reason to yell at me."

That cracks a snort from him, "Why would Seteth yell at you?"

"I've butted heads with him a few times. There was an obstacle course, and then running through the chapel. He doesn't-"

"You ran through the chapel?!"

A few people turn to face them. Leonie shrugs best she can, nonchalantly saying, "I thought we could run through the open doors, to complete the perfect loop around the chapel area. Obviously I know better now, but it didn't win me any points."

"Did you live under a rock? No one is supposed to run through holy places."

"…That is a wonderful piece of information to know. Kind of feels like I did live under a rock, with how much I've been learning recently."

**9**.

_Focus_.

Don't think about it.

Ma҉g͘i̵c ̡́i͏̸s̶͘ ̵a̕҉̢ f̴̕͟o͡r̵̕͡m ̷̕o̕f̧̛ ̷̸͞e̵n͘҉e͟r̡g̶̡͡y̨. I͟t͘ i̡s̢ ̧̡i̢n͏ t́h̶́e̕͡ ̵̛a̢̨͡i͝͏ŗ̴ ̛th̕e̢͟y ͡͝br̷e̡a̢̛͠t̷́͠h̵́́e,̛̕ ͏̛b̡oųn̨̛c̵i̴͜͞n̢̧g ̸a̛͠r̡͢҉ound͞ ͏̡a̡n̢̧d҉̵͢ ͢a̛͜l̀͘w̵̕ay͜s̸̨ ̨̡t̴͝he̴͘r̶̢é̀̕, ̵͢n̛͢o̴͠ ̴m͜ąt͠͏̸tè̕r̸͢҉ ̛̕h͘o͢͏ẃ̧ ͠s̵͟m̨̕͠ą҉l̶̨l͏.̵͘ ̕͞҉T̴o̶̢ b̢rè͏̸a̡̨th͠e͜ ̴͝į҉t ͟͟i͏s̷͟͞ ̛́t͞ó̵ ̷̧̀ábs̸̢o͢͢r̛͟҉b̢͏ ̸̕͝ì͞t̸,̡ év͞en̛͟ ͝͏t̵̵h̴r̴͟͟o̶u͟g̡͜͡h͘͏ ̨à͡ filter so͜m̛e͝th̨ing͟ wil͞l ̡d̸ri̕ft̵ i͞n. Èv͡en to ͏n͜oţ a̧b̷sorb it͜ ͡now dóe̷ś ͞n͝ot҉ m̢èan i̕t ̵is ͟gǫne̛.͠ Do͏es ̵ǹo̡t̡ ͡m͠e̸aņ t҉h̨e b͏ơdy ҉d͢i̴d̶n̡'t ̛gro̧w̴ ùṕ ͡bréat̸hi͞n҉g ̵i҉t, ͝livin̡g̶ ̸wíth ͜it̡,̶ ev͜ol̨v̸i̢ng͞ ̸from i̸t̴.̧ I͝t͘ i̕s th̡ére ̀in͟ f̴at ́s̵t̀ores,̵ ̶i̢n͡ ́h̷air ͝part̀i҉c̢l̢e̢s̸ a̕n̨d̵ ͜brain̷ t͢is҉sųe. I̵t҉ fl̷o͡ws ͏ţh̛roug̶h-

Stop.

Breathe.

_Focus_.

Don't th_i_nk about _i_t.

Ę͢͝n͜ér̛͜g̕͜͡y̸͟ ̡ć̵̛a͡n͟͠n̸ot͏̴ ͘be͘͜͝ c̷r̀͞e҉̀at͜e͟҉d̕̕ ҉͠ǫ̵r ̀͘͜d̶͝e͝͏͘s̀t̴̨ŕo̸y҉̛e̛d͞.̧

En̢erg̵y p̧às͢s̨es͜ ͟thr͢ough͟.  
̴I͠t ̢c̵an-

_No_.

Mag̛i҉c̕ ͟ín̕ c̢ǫnçęn͠trat͠éd s̸p̸a̕ce͠s̡ ̷can͢-

_N__**o**_**.**

Hįt ̀so͠m̷e̴thing̷ ͘ha͢r̨d ͜en̡ough-́  
Hea̷t͠ somethi͡ng͞ ̨u̶p̀ ̨e҉n̵ou͠gh-͏  
H͜ea̶l͘ ̶s͘om͝e͠t̀hin̵g̨ ̡fa̴s̛t̵ ͏e̕n̕o͘ug͏h҉-͟

_**Stop.**_

Don't think about it.

_Focus_.

**10**.

"Happy birthday!" echoes in a small room of a quiet corridor.

Lysithea gapes from Leonie's back, where she was being 'used as a weight' for 'training purposes'. The eldest gets a light smack on the head for the deception, but the small grin on the whitette's face means she isn't upset about it.

"How did you get a cake?!" Lysithea does not squeal at the sight of the treat – no, of course not – as she visibly stops herself from rushing to it.

"Raphael and Ignatz made it," Claude gives credit where it's due. "I managed to wheedle Seteth into letting them have the kitchen last night, and we get this room for the whole day."

"Hilda, Marianne, and I tried to make this place up to the noble standard," Lorenz sniffs, giving a side-eye to the pinkette resting her head on top of a chair's back. "Some of us more than others. I do so hope it is acceptable."

"It is great," Lysithea nervously looks around the fabric and furnished room, her house's signature red amongst the dark colours. "You guys didn't need to go to the trouble."

"Sure we did!" Raphael booms. "Fifteen may not be as important as sixteen for nobles, but we should always celebrate the day we were born!"

"Exactly," Ignatz adjusts his glasses with a smile. "And, I, um, hope you enjoy the cake. Leonie and Hilda bought plenty of food if you don't."

"But it's all healthy," Hilda complains, sliding out of her seat. "Come on, Lysithea! Birthday girl gets the first slice! They even added a sugarcane sweetener!"

Lysithea darts over faster than a blink. Marianne joins them when Lysithea calls over to her, the ladies each cutting a large piece.

"Are you not joining them?" Lorenz wonders, sliding up to Leonie.

"I'll wait until everyone else goes," she smiles and bites her cheek, drawing blood for a moment. "I'm not too used to sugar. Don't, uh… really want to start hopping off the walls if it gets me really excited."

"Moderation is good," he nods, not actually getting the problem Leonie's facing since she doesn't say it.

She is terrified the sugar won't taste the same in this body.

"I, myself, have to limit how much tea I have each day," Lorenz hums. "Once my new kettle arrives, I shall invite you for tea. You are one of the few around here who actually have the proper table manners for it."

"Oh, how is the etiquette club? I've been meaning to stop by and see if they'll lend me a book before the new students arrive."

He sighs, like learning hardcore etiquette isn't what he expected. "Everyone is busy with exam preparation. I am learning some, however they have no real time for me."

"Well then, maybe we can practice sometime. Or, I can try to not offend you with my poor table setting skills."

"I am positive you can be nowhere near as horrid as Claude is."

"Heard me name," he pops up with a grin, cake in hand and fork in the other. Purposefully takes a bite and asks with a full mouth, "What's up?"

Lorenz makes a noise, lips pulling down, "Disgusting."

While Lorenz flaunts away, Claude swallows and raises an eyebrow at Leonie.

"I learned to gut a fish by myself," she raises hers back. "Very little disgusts me."

He laughs, almost surprised at himself, and nudges her towards the table, "Get some before Lysithea eats it all."

"_I head that, Claude!"_

**-**.

"Lady Edelgard," Hubert is bowing before she even turns from the window, "the carriage is ready. Your _uncle_," he sneers the word, dripping with distaste, "is insisting you sit with him. I have been informed, however, that if we wait an hour longer there will be several noble children who would be grateful to have your ear if even for an hour."

"Thank you, Hubert," her lips do not twitch, but her voice is soft. "I really should visit father before I depart. We might even have some tea, if the Prime Minister allows it."

Her vassal's smile isn't kind, but it relieves her, nonetheless. "I will inform the drivers of the delay." He bows.

Leaves before she mutters her repeated, "Thank you, Hubert."

The princess and heir to the Adrestian Empire turns to the window a moment longer, gaze tightening as this time she doesn't see the people oppressed by the nobility and the slithering darkness. This time, she sees a doll, dressed in one of the many grand outfits suited for a puppet figurehead. The makeup hides the scars, the blemishes, adds a bit of life to the cold, pale skin of someone who has forgotten what true warmth feels like.

Edelgard von Hresvelg swears it will be the last day of _this_. Today is the beginning of the tipping point.

No one can force her into dresses and makeup at Garreg Mach Monastery. It will be only decent thing the Church has ever done for her.

Edelgard swallows back every drip of distaste, hate, and fear. With a swirl she is off to see her father, for possibly the final time.

The last of her blood and bone family.

_I'm sorry, my dear one. I'm so sorry-_

Not even he deserves her tears.

**-**.

"Your Highness," Dedue bows the moment he is in sight of the crown prince. "The carriage is ready. The others are waiting for you outside."

"Ah, many thanks, Dedue," Dimitri takes one last glance at his kingdom from his balcony. "How are you feeling?"

"Your Highness?"

"About going to Garreg Mach Monastery. I must admit, I am quite anxious now that the day is here. It has always seemed like such long way to go, and now we have nearly a month until the new year begins. How do you feel about it all?"

"I am… happy, to be given the opportunity to learn alongside you, your Highness."

Prince Dimitri smiles best he can-

"_-Dimitri!" _

"_Diimiiitriiii!" _

"_Kill them! Kill them all!"_

"_Avenge us! Find them and kill every-"_

\- and clasps his friend on the shoulder, "I am happy to learn with you as well."

The voices of the dead have yet to give him a single day of rest. It is nothing new. What is, will be following along to their demands. They tell him the information he needs is at Garreg Mach.

_("-find the book. The proof is there. Lord Arundel has cut the donations. Find it, Dimitri. Find it. The proof-")_

Just this once, he will do their bidding. Maybe if he finds it, they will finally quiet and leave him.

…Dimitri still isn't sure he wants that, though.

**-**.

Lady Rhea stands on her balcony and watches the tiny humans play below.

So tiny. So small.

_So breakable. Such short lifespans._

"Are you even listening to me?" her brother complains.

"Of course," she can multitask. Not like the weak creatures around her. "Messengers delivering approximate arrival times for the new year's students. Manuela gave her report. Exams being finalized. A few rumors about the Western Church. Did I miss anything?"

"No," Seteth grumbles, shuffling his papers back into order. "I do wish you would take these more seriously."

"What is there to worry about?" Rhea smiles thinly, Seteth stiffening as her eyes flash a beady, pupil-less white. "No students could ever surpass us, Manuela was doing her job, and we cannot act until some concrete evidence comes from the Western Church. If there really is any dissent, we can end it where it begins, with the Church or with the students."

Seteth's mouth presses into a line. He always did like humans more than she did, though he does not complain about sending children to fight their battles anymore. _See?_ Rhea blinks back to her normal, bright minty green eyes. _Humans are all humans, no matter the age, brother._

"What about the change in the air?" He breaks into her viewing pleasure once more with his silly worries. "You cannot tell me you are not _concerned_-"

"It is simply a forewarning of change," Rhea raises a hand, as if to wave away the thought. "While it may feel different than the usual, it is not unheard of. It is small, like the beat of an insect's wing. Nothing that will cause waves. We have nothing to fear, Seteth."

"…If you say so."

"I do."

"…Then I shall leave you. Have a pleasant evening, Rhea."

She hums, dissmisive. He has been acting different these past few weeks, trying to foster more paperwork towards her. Rhea loathes paperwork, has not touched the stuff since recruiting her brother and assigning a leader to each position of the Church and Academy businesses. It will be just like the last year, Seteth will be back to normal come the class assigning.

Maybe it's because Flayn is here? But no, she's been here for years. It must be since she is now awake. Rhea does not understand why he bothers having a parental bond with his daughter. He has more important things to control.

So does Flayn, not that the girl will accept her duty.

Rhea is careful not to let her human-looking face twist where people can see it. She's learned throughout the years that the inhuman beauty can cause nightmares if there is a break in the mask. Still, the tips of her fingers dig into the stone balcony as she looks to the sky, where guards and mounts fly freely.

She misses the freedom. Misses her kingdom being solely hers and her mother's to control.

It is lonely, being the only one left who can turn into a dragon.

The only one to truly understand the sky.

* * *

**A/N:** **In which there's a lot of build up and very little payoff. **

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to ShadowWolf223, xenocanaan, MiserableSOUL660, guisniperman, Genin, JoshuaFangurl, IReadNoNonsense, Eclipse130, HersheyBby, and TheGiantRock for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**Ten chapters in and a few other points of view. No Claude's POV yet because he's likely to get a whole interlude and he's currently around more often. He also doesn't know who his pen pal is, and every time he thinks it's narrowed down the other candidates show they're just as likely, which is unfortunate for him. **

**Was getting a little ahead of myself on the Black/Red Eagle side plot so last chapter has been tweaked a bit (like, three to six words, so nothing major). **

**Some people show up next chapter. If you're interested, feel free to guess who.**

**Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone is well. Please take care **


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

**1**.

_L_

_The ride back was as adventurous as the ride there, at least I thought so. We met a few more students along the way. I'm counting on you and C to catch them up to speed. I managed to get a few new paintings for the foyer, and no bandits made off with anything or anyone. It was a rather calm ride, all things considering._

_How are you? Have you been keeping out of trouble?_

_If school ever gets too much, there's always a spot in the training program for you. Ask C for any details._

_G_

_P.S. I've attached the last letter you sent C to his letter from me, seeing as it arrived after we departed._

**2**.

After dispelling the magic, the wall crumbles. Leonie doubles over at the force of Crest Bonds hitting her diverter ward, but it's nothing she hasn't felt before. Taking a look, however, causes a short nosebleed.

_Gross_, Leonie mouths under _Silence_. The blood on her dissipates into the air once it's pushed above her barrier, into the diverting stream. The magic in the air is very active, using whatever it can to ignite change. Whatever flow the smaller, thinner stands wanted has made it easier to break most of the protections around. In particular, the wall crumbled with very little intent aimed at it.

It made Leonie cautious before _Dispel_. After seeing the clumps of colours her mind wouldn't process, she's caught between running away or throwing in a fireball. Her hands are heating up at just the thought. The young woman wipes the sweat from her head and walks forward, readying for a makeshift flashlight.

In the end there is no need. The glow coming from Crest shards is enough to make the cavern sparkle.

Leonie curses, unheard. She'll need to either repair the wall or bring down the cavern, both of which will require earth magic. It's not her magical inclination, but also not her worst magic typing. That would be _solids_ in general.

There is no way she will be touching any of these. No need to risk anything by keeping them. This is not for her.

A mark has been painted onto the wall above each shard gathering's pedestal. Each shard is a murky brown, flecks of other colours coming and going at random. She can feel their weak reaching, like a cold sleeping human searches for warmth. Whatever – whoever – each bundle was, they are kept on the cusp of living by the markings carved into each stone bowl they rest in.

Not every bowl holds something.

She counts nearly a hundred pedestals including those in offshoot paths. Twelve in the main room, with half missing anything in their bowls. Five instead have a marble-like, metal object in each of their inactive bowls. The last empty bowl sits upon a large shrine at the very end of the cavern, a familiar Crest marked on it.

Leonie pulls out a book of crudely sketched Crests and tries to find it. It doesn't take her long.

_Crest of Maurice._

_Crest of the Beast._

Leonie hums silently and replaces the book for a scrap of cloth. _If this is the chamber meant to honor the disgraced elite Dragon, then who were the other Crests?_

It really isn't important. Leonie is only vaguely curious about the discovery. It involves a bit more thinking than looting weapon cashes; a fun little mystery that she only has a few hours to sink her teeth into. First, seeing if she can nab the marbles. Leonie lines up to the pedestal showcasing a bronze, dull shade where two disconnected ovals opposite two disconnected rectangles are painted into the wall. The symbol is carved into the marble, facing up. The young woman reaches out a hand and thinks about the air.

Imagines a hand lifting the marble. The magic around her eagerly follows, though it's entirely her magic that pulls it away from its pedestal. Leonie wraps the cloth around it, dropping her magic with a pant and closing her eyes for a moment, headache pounding until it _Heals_.

That is the worst to happen. No boulders dropping and no arrows flying. No poisonous gas or other trap activates.

_Good_, Leonie looks at her hand. She can't make heads or tails of what these marble-things are supposed to be, but she can steal them. There is nothing coming from them, and they have no connection to Crests. No threads or magic she can sense from them. No timers.

_So why are they here?_ Leonie wonders as she pulls out a small empty bag from her inventory. It used to hold coins before she switched them to one without sewn patches. In goes the marble, but not before Leonie tries to touch it. Nothing happens, and nothing continues to happen even as she stashes the five marbles away. Some weigh differently, all have a different symbol.

Leonie looks around the cavern again, hoping she'll be able to find one more clue to what this whole area is about. She begins sketching the Crests, in case there's something in the Monastery's library to help her.

Unfortunately, it appears like a mystery for another day. In the end, the young woman reforms and respells the wall, no one the wiser.

**3**.

Leonie hadn't thought twice the first time she handed off three-fourths of her hunt to the hungry children in the village connected to the Monastery's gates. The surrounding forest is bountiful, predators seemingly killed off by the Knights and leaving the prey to multiple quickly. She doesn't need to stalk for long to find something, and the ground is fertile with unpicked, magic infused foliage.

She hadn't thought much of it because she had too much that first time and it hadn't cost her a cent to deliver it to their orphanage. Hadn't thought much the second time it happened, when three children were hanging off her in search for the extra food as she carried a sack of fruits in one hand. Leonie would surprise them with squirrel from her pocket dimension later.

It wasn't shocking she learned all their names. It's a survival instinct, the same way she knows the first names of all ninety-four students currently enrolled in the Officer's Academy, the gaits and faces of the hundred plus knights who constantly patrol the grounds, and the nearly fifty staff and servants who make sure either the Church or the Academy keep running.

Know who belongs, and then realize who doesn't. Learn where to point fingers and exploit the habits or schedules.

_The Librarian watches too keenly and travels too often for his hunched, failing body. Why does no one else notice?_

Leonie doesn't think what she's doing to cover her extracurriculars makes that big an impact. Not until the third time, where the matron breaks down in tears at the door, begging her to get a certain priest to try and heal a dying boy.

No one notices how she sprints around the village corners, dodging crowds and streets with a hand raised. The knife hovering over her palm shifts with ever mental cast of _Point Me: Priest Zacacry_. The small chapel is several blocks away, made of wood instead of stone. The doors are open, the people in the pews unable to see or hear her. Leonie pauses at the door to the priest's office, frozen at how the knife points behind her.

She tilts her hand compass down. The knife point follows. Leonie curses, because she cannot walk away from this. There is someone dying, and just maybe there isn't a hidden chamber beneath the chapel. Maybe it's only a cellar. She drops the spell in exchange for building up an area-wide one.

At the release of _Dispel_, there is a loud crack that raises a few concerned heads. None turn Leonie's way, they're more curious with the smoking corners of the room. The young woman feels her stomach roll with hunger as she eases into the office, no one the wiser.

It all looks harmless enough, if one discounts the pushed aside rug and closed cellar door. Leonie takes a deep breath and spares a little hope that this isn't the plot trying to take her out early. She'll take an expected evil over an early plot point.

The magic in the air all but dissipates the moment she goes underground. It takes Leonie a moment to breathe and adjust to the energy output. By how much the first _oomph_ takes, she's been doing too much for her body to handle without a boost. The idea of storing magic is looking really good now.

She walks forth with only _Danger Sense_, _Silence, Notice-Me-Not_, _Night Vision_, and the diverter ward in place. It is taking more energy that she'd like, even though _Notice-Me-Not_ shouldn't have much of a drain effect with no one around. Judging by the feeling, there is less than fifteen minutes before the first stage of starvation kicks in.

_I need more practice_, Leonie thinks darkly as the smell of blood permeates the air. Her foot steps in- and she does not look down. _Don't think about it. Focus._

When she finds the priest, when she _sees_, something in her calms. She feels cold, awash in adrenaline at the horror.

Leonie knows she's an inappropriate smiler. She focuses on that as she makes quick work of the fake priest and his torture victim. Covers her mouth with her shirt as the bodies burn, making sure nothing sticks around in the ashes. No stones from either of their bodies, a sudden lack of feeble strands without the victim's blood.

There were two Crests. Silver and pink. A colour like the blanket, and a shade close to Hilda's.

Leonie isn't sick as she returns to the surface, but only because she _does not think about it_. Instead, focuses on the magic cleaning her before she breaches to the light. There is still a coverup to be had, no matter how much she'd rather burn this place to the ground. She really wants to wash her hands and eat, what with _burning_ more calories than expected. Just a bit more, and it won't be the first time she starved for magic. At least above ground, the magic in the air is abundant.

All the things to do with the priest's side activities are stored away in Leonie's bag. There are a few words and symbols, even a knife, that make her think _plot_. As she _Dispels_ the enchantments and weak illusions, there is no confirmation one way or another. She can't read the language, has no time to try and read what she can.

One of her simpler skills comes in handy as she magically slides a piece of paper into the middle of the desk. Leonie does not rest or press any of her body parts to it as she steals one of the dead priest's pens. Looking over his letters and writings, she begins to trace a copy of his style. The young woman may not be great at drawing, but copying and tracing have been something she's done with sticks and dirt for years. Her hand doesn't shake and, when Leonie leaves unseen, what remains is an open doorway where a letter rests about the priest running off with a young maiden because of love and all that.

If anyone ever looks, no one will find him or her. It's a cruel fate for the unknown named victim's memory, and Leonie wishes she had the time to come up with something better. There is something under the coldness in her chest, saying she should have done anything to let the world know about what just happened. Even burning down the chapel would have been better.

Maybe he was a serial killer, maybe he wasn't. Maybe the victim had a family, maybe she was an orphan he took before Leonie could learn her name. It's awful, and it hurts that she cannot feel awful about it. Process later, there is someone dying now.

Leonie thinks that, maybe if she felt a bit of sympathy, things would have started going differently. A different plot to the fate of the world. A Main Character coming in blind.

Or maybe fate would have tried to kill her faster. The future is always in flux, it's hard to guess if she'll ever change a thing before her next d-

_Don't think about it._

_Focus._

There's a person to try and save. After washing her hands and munching down an apple.

**4**.

He is four years old and gives the biggest smile from his bed when Leonie's introduced. He was one of the few she's seen running around the market, and now there are several places skin hangs off him and dark marks signify old blood stains. The name he was given after being _rescued_ by the Church was Alistair.

Just like with the priest's victim, Leonie can feel the two Crests. These, however, are being smothered under the Crest blanket. Alistair has two Crests inside his body, one trying to suffocate the other.

Leonie _doesn't know what to do_. Her insides are cold, goosebumps littering her body. The matron leaves them when Leonie requests some tea to share, providing a bag of chamomile so the other woman knows she's trying to relax them all.

It feels like a knife twisting in her stomach when he coughs, blood dripping down his nose again.

_There must be something._

It's in his blood_. Is it in his essence?_ While she believes in miracle, Leonie isn't certain her Faith is high enough to produce one. _Could radiation work?_

Leonie doesn't know.

She refuses to try.

Then all that's left…

Leonie takes a deep breath and meets the boy's curious gaze as she settles next to his bed. "If it is alright with you, Alistair, I would like to try something."

"Will it hurt?"

"No, but you will need to keep your eyes closed. And I have to keep my hands over your eyes to make sure you're not peeking."

"…okay…"

They get into position, his hands coming up to keep her hands in place. Leonie breathes out slowly and blinks.

The world is alight with colours that aren't colours. Even if her brain still hurts to see this, blood beginning to trickle down her own nose again, it isn't as bad as facing off against a barrage of Crest Stone pieces. Alistair is releasing the same silver as the majority of Crest strands encased in Garreg Mach's barrier, but it's choppy. Two of the same Crests cannot bond together, and it is interfering with his other Crest. The minor Crest in his blood is attached to everything, yet the strands not frayed or broken are being strangled by his silver.

The new Crest is killing him as it tries to take over all the bonds. Leonie has no idea how this is so different from Lysithea's, who's Crests are connected to each other and connected to the same Crests of others. Hers are in a balance, even with the extra strain as one Crest is major while the other is minor. It is a large physical tole on a body that never had a Crest to begin with, but not at risk of killing her in moments.

Alistair's major Crest is trying to snap all the bonds to the minor Crest in order to overpower the silver already attached to him from the blanket. The moment it gains control will be the moment past the point of no return.

Leonie needs a word.

Needs a spell.

_Something to stop- unravel- maybe remove-_

She needs to know what's going on. Needs to know what to do to stop it.

She needs-

_-purge? No, the shock could kill him. Untangle? It would just start back up again. A block wouldn't hold. Time, I need time. Unwind? Release? Painless. I said this would be painless-_

-to start with what she knows can stall this, even if it's faith and not reason. "_Heal_."

_This will help him_, Leonie thinks and _focuses_. The magic is all around her. Responds to her command with nary a resistance. Removes the pain, heals the too-high fever and slows down the energy consumption. _Heal_ does everything she wants it to do.

The magic does everything she wants to _happen_.

Leonie blinks, drops her hands as if burnt, warm from _will_ travelling around her. Alistair blinks too, opening and closing his mouth a few times before blanching and asking at the sight of blood under her nose, "Leonie?"

She makes sure to smile, wiping it off on her white sleeve. It does not appear there, not with the magic in the air ripping it to shreds. "How do you feel?"

He moves his fingers, arms, even stands from the bed with a giant smile. "I feel great!"

When the matron comes back, she drops the tea in shock. It does not compare to how stunned Leonie is at what she saw. Faith magic, her weakest skill, undid the trauma and removed the major Crest like it had never been there. Removed it like it was a tumor.

The magic in the air is still waiting for someone to use it. To c_orrect the abominations._

Leonie isn't sure how to feel, so she doesn't respond to that. Assures the matron that she is fine but has no idea how he became to be healed. _All they did was say a prayer to the Goddess together._ Comforts the crying woman who explains Priest Zacacry normally takes the children away when they're like this, promising to do all he can yet never returns with one.

"Do you know where he is?" the matron begs. "You could tell him what you did, have him help the-"

"I don't know where he is," Leonie acts sympathetic. "I couldn't find him. I'm sorry."

"Well, no matter. We'll have him come by when you are over."

"I don't know what I did! I'm barely competent at Faith magic, or Reason magic for that matter. All I did was pray that Alistair be healed!"

"…Then maybe this was the Goddess' blessing," the matron begins sobbing again. "Oh Goddess, please, please don't abandon your children. Please answer our prayers once more."

Only vaguely uncomfortable, Leonie goes to help the children prepare the food she's given them. Now that she's paying attention, she can feel it in a lot of them. The silver-not-silver Crest that is hammered by the blanket, rejected from all tethers. The oldest orphan is fifteen and does not have it. The oldest with it is eight, and from the sunken cheeks there could be another case of this _sickness_ soon.

Leonie's hoping it isn't truly like a cancer in remission. Hopes that when she sheared and withheld pain – stopping the shock as Alistair's blood vanished, healthy cells doubling, all via magic – it means the sickness is gone for good. This whole event leaves her with so much dread, ice has begun forming on her chest, under her shirt.

Her fingers are crossed that this doesn't get back to her in any way. Makes sure the matron and other staff know _it was the Goddess' doing_. Sothis isn't around to take the heat, and Leonie's already slipped up a few too many times today.

It's possible her actions will make the kid die slower.

She doesn't even want to _think_ about doing this stunt to Lysithea. The girl finds her cure in several endings, she doesn't need Leonie's half-baked faith to burn it out of her.

Besides, Lysithea wasn't born with a Crest. She has no healthy, empty cells to reproduce with.

Someone else can…

…deal…

..with..

.this.

**5**.

Leonie-

-calmly leans over the toilet seat-

-_processes_.

She sweats as her snacks come up. It's all very gross, but nothing's as bad as the pricks all over her skin. The panic in her mind. The knife twisting in her stomach as she _feels_ – can vividly imagine – the agony the victim must have been in before Leonie killed them.

Her. The victim was female.

It's all in her head, the imaginary pain, but the doctor tools were- and the victim was missing-

Leonie retches again.

Very little makes her stomach churn, but viewing unnecessary suffering always ignites horror. Today was a two-for-one of awfulness.

The other children will likely begin dying as well.

Leonie always makes sure to kill quickly. If she can, painless.

She doesn't feel ready to face the real world.

**6**.

Leonie knocks on the art room door. The few students inside turn and look before dismissing her.

"Leonie!" Ignatz exclaims in his soft-spoken voice. "Did you need something?"

"Would it be alright," her eyes shift over to the part-time student in charge of the club, "if I did some sketching in here?"

They wave her in. Ignatz is shaking, whether from nerves or excitement she has no idea. He pulls out a stool and has a drawing table ready for her by the time Leonie makes to back, "Do you draw often?"

"Not really," she admits, small and soft smile with a nod giving her thanks. "Most of the time my drawings end up armor-ish."

"Armor… ish?"

"Well, it could look like armor if I was any better at drawing."

"Would you mind if I watched you for a while? I do know a few things about sketching, if you want any tips. I under if you don't."

"No, no, I'd love some advice," she begins tracing what will be the body's outline. "You said you like paining, right? How has it been with the Academy's supplies."

"Well, I don't actually get to use any of the good stuff until our year begins… and even then, I have to prove myself before I can use the finer paints…"

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Leonie nods to his canvas with a smirk. "If you ever decide knighthood isn't for you, I'm positive you'd make a fortune painting."

"Well- I- that's not a realistic goal…"

"If it's something you love doing, then pursue with all your heart. Or something like that. At the end of the year, you'll at least have a license to fall back on if painting is what you'd rather do for fun and not profit."

"I…" Ignatz pushes up his glasses. Looks around before leaning in. "I want to become a knight to help my parents."

"If it's a bandit-type risk, you can still pursue art on the road, can't you?"

"Well… It's…" he sighs, "I want to be able to give them connections. If I become a knight for a noble house, I can offer them connections to broader markets. Does that make sense?"

"It does…" Leonie frowns and pulls away from her paper. The body outline is done, but it's too small for anyone to fit in. Unless Marianne is hiding an hourglass figure under her long, thick dresses. "But you can make tons of connections here at the Monastery, can't you? I guess it would give as concrete options as signing up with a fancy noble house, but being a free agent means you piss less people off when not choosing a side, right?"

"I… sometimes? I guess that's one way to look at it," he hums and stands, grabbing a pencil of his own. "Something to think on. Can I make a few suggestions on how to sketch figures?"

"Be my guest."

**7**.

"Ooo," Leonie relaxes in the doorway, "what's in the boxes?"

Lysithea lowers her book, watching from her top bunk, "Uniforms."

Leonie breaks into a wide smile and attacks the fancy wooden box with fever. She _oohs_ and _awes_, twisting the fine black material around and watching as the dangles stretch and fall in unobtrusive ways. They are expected to train in these, it looks like a pain to lace on and off every day. No wonder the real Leonie didn't-

-she wore it but-

-wear it all buttoned up. If she didn't have the extra money, she would have had to buy it second-hand. With the money leftover from the sponsorship, they were _all_ able to get the uniforms fitted.

Now that she thinks about it…

…_that's not how it was supposed to go, was it?_

"You just missed the delivery people," Lysithea says, eye narrowed when Leonie finally looks up. "How was your morning run?"

"Good," Leonie smiles as if she didn't trade gossip with the Gatekeeper. As if the things she planted a few days ago aren't circulating as rumors now. "Apparently there's supposed to be some more students arriving. The commoners and nobles who live around the Monastery areas."

Lysithea makes a face. Pulls her book back up. "I heard from Monica when she dragged Hilda out today. You're lucky you missed that. Even Marianne was asleep."

"Is it bad my first thought was to stand on the overlooking bridge and throw popcorn at them?"

The teen chokes, book slipping. She levels a glare at the young woman, "Yes. That's just- we could get in so much trouble."

"You'd help me?"

Lysithea makes the noise again and firmly turns away.

"…Hey… Have you left this room besides going to eat?"

Telltale silence.

"Lysithea, that's really unhealthy-"

"I know," she snaps, muffled by the wall she's looking at. "I just don't want to go out there, okay?"

Leonie huffs. "Do you at least have some exercise to do in here? You do know your muscles will atrophy if-"

"_I know!"_

"…How about I teach you some things to do? It would give me peace of mind to know you're not fading away in here."

The book slams shut, a snarl on the girl's face, "If that's what will make you go away, then fine."

_Wow, rude_. Leonie's not sure what she did to incur this anger, but it's not like she really cares. She'd rather not see her classmates go into the academy weak. That's it. She digs around her side pack for her special notes. "Okay. We'll begin with stretches, and then move on to some stances."

Lysithea blanches when the training sword follows the notes out of the smaller-on-the-outside bag. She's still not used to it, but she's also the only other person who knows about it. Leonie smirks at the childish payback and lays the weapons and notes on her bed. "You can keep the sword until start classes."

"What if it breaks?"

Leonie bites down a snort. There's a durability ward on every weapon she's ever used, "Then how about you'll owe me a spar? It shouldn't break though; all we're doing are some stances and motions. Not like, _actually_ hitting anything."

Lysithea peers at the notes, "Who's Jeralt?"

"Only the greatest mercenary captain I've ever met!"

**8**.

"Oh, hey, Leonie!"

The young woman plants a foot, pivoting and jogging backwards to ease off the momentum. She jogs back, "What's up, Sir Gatekeeper?"

"This young lady is going to be a new student for the Blue Lions," he tilts his head towards the peach-blonde, soft looking woman that's got dirt marks all over her dress hem. "Would you mind explaining a few things and taking her to Seteth? I am not too sure where the other future classes have been set up."

"Will do, sir!" Leonie gives a salute and smiles as calmly as she can. This is not the first new student she's had to chat or show around, but so far the others come in groups of two or three. Usually with a parent. "Do you need any help carrying things?"

"No," is the soft, patient answer. A tug on the rucksack over one shoulder, "This is all I have."

"Makes it easier for travelling," Leonie nods and begins walking. The slightly taller young woman keeps pace easily, even with the shadows under her eyes telling her sleepless state. "I'm Leonie, by the way. Future Deer student."

"Mercedes," the lady replies, offering no last name as commoners are to do. She walks like a noble, though.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Leonie makes sure to flash a cheeky grin. She is forgetting something but can always look through the journals after. Launches into a speech on what's expected of them, food and assistance, as well as the obstacle course lots of the new students will participate in on the free day.

"Do you want me to wait outside while you get sorted?" Leonie asks just outside Seteth's open door. The man inside rolls his eyes discretely, but she's watching.

"I would appreciate that," Mercedes smile. "Thank you for the assistance and guidance."

"It's a big change for all of us. I'm just paying forward the kindness shown to me."

Mercedes hums, "Thank you nonetheless."

When the door is shut and no one is around, Leonie pulls out her diary of faded memories. Not wanting to risk magic, she painstakingly skims and flicks the page until something catches her eyes.

_Mercedes._

_Blue Lions._

_Brother is the fighting instructor._

Leonie's memorized who _he's_ supposed to be.

_Well s-_

**9**.

"Hi, Marianne."

"O-oh," the blue haired teen gasps. "Leonie. Hello."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you," the young woman leans on the stall door, watching the supposedly temperamental horse melt under her future classmate's brush. "Just thought I'd drop in. How is it in the equestrian club?"

"It's… nice. This is Dorte. I'm to take care of him until the lessons begin, and then I will be able to ride him."

"That sounds wonderful! He's been good to you, right?"

Marianne hides a smile while Dorte snorts, "Yes, he's been kind."

"Glad to hear," Leonie winks at Dorte when Marianne isn't looking. "Sorry for interrupting. Hey, have you tried the school uniform yet?"

"Yes."

"Those tailors did a really good job. Ah, see you at dinner Marianne. Dorte, don't ask too much out of her."

The horse snorts while Marianne squeaks. Leonie hurries out before the younger girl's mind realizes she just had a full conversation with another human without shrinking or feeling self-loathing. Building confidence comes in little steps, after all. Leonie wants her to have some spine before the new Golden Deer students arrive.

Then, to get rid of the shadows under her eyes before the Main Character appears.

**10**.

The Gatekeeper trails off, straightening and looking over her shoulder. Leonie glances back as well, her body deceptively loose at the shift.

Here is what she sees:

A woman dressed in all browns.

The wriggling sack the woman drops.

The woman running away.

Here is what she hears: crying.

Leonie curses, moving before the Gatekeeper can. She pulls a knife, grabbing the coarse sack with her free hand, "Hey, _hey_! Stop moving for a second, I'll get you out!"

The normally silent gatekeeper is reaching them first, saying things like, "Leonie, you don't know what's in there."

Here are two facts:

Leonie does not care about a lot of things.

She also hates unnecessary suffering.

Time doesn't slow down, Leonie moves faster as she slashes a cut the moment the thing in the bag pulls away. Time moves normally as she pockets the knife, two hands appearing from the sack and wrenching it open with a gasp.

Then comes the screaming. The panic. The, "Who are you?! _Where am I?!"_

"Hey, you're okay," Leonie mutters, hands up in surrender and close to her chest. "You're okay," turns to snap at the gatekeeper and Gatekeeper, "Someone alert the guards. See if that woman can be herded off."

Leonie would have gone herself, but the kid's latched onto her arm and is trying to hide. Screams of, "idiot, useless, you're so stupid Bernie," spilling from her lips. The girl's purple hair is thin and brittle, her skin sunken and gaze looking moments away from passing out. She keeps trying to jerk Leonie over her, until finally the young woman sits and drops the girl in her lap. Holding her like this, it is easy to add to the diverter ward, making a shield between them as the girl's Crest is flaring in her panic. Leonie doesn't dare _Silence_ the girl, but at least this way people will have a harder time focusing on the disruption in front of the Monastery's doors.

"You're okay," Leonie promises the girl. Calm laces her voice, face a forced relax even as a rage builds in her. The air around them is getting warmer. "You're alright. No one will hurt you. You are not stupid. Breathe. You just need to breathe, okay? No one's going to hurt you. You are okay."

If Leonie ever again sees the woman who dropped her here, well… it has been unfortunately hard not being able to kill problems away. It would be nice, _human_, to be a real comfort to someone who's gone through a trauma. If only she was a better speaker than a killer.

That woman better hope the Church finds her first, because Leonie won't hesitate to murder her.

* * *

**A/N:** **Leonie kills a bit, frames a bit, deceives people with their own religion, and then keeps pretending to be a functional member of society. So, a rather normal couple of days for her all things considered. **

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to xenocanaan, guisniperman, IReadNoNonsense, Sukaleska, ShadowWolf223, Math725e, Guest, NeutralWotan, JoshuaFangurl, Lunar Black Blossom, MiserableSOUL660, and TheBrightestOfBlues for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**More people next chapter (in the background of this chapter: some future students are going stir crazy in carriages). Thank you to everyone who guessed, I really enjoy reading the thoughts and theories! **

**I am so relieved that Claude's real name was released. The fact I don't have to come up with a name similar to 'Claude' for his eventual POV is one less thing to worry about. **

**Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone is well. Please take care **


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

**1**.

"Changing rooms?!" Hilda exclaims.

"Correct," Seteth – who obviously does not want to be the one telling them – does not blink twice at the echo. "Many students will be leaving after the first exams next week, however we have more than expected. Until numbers begin evening out, changes will need to be made to sleeping arrangements."

Seems like a hassle, but they're in charge. What Leonie doesn't get is, "Why me?"

_Oh yes_, Seteth is very good at hiding his discontentment, "You were requested specifically."

Hilda makes a choking noise, irritated, "It was that new girl, wasn't it? The crying one."

Leonie feels her hackles rising a bit, but it's Seteth who calmly and sternly utters, "Bernadetta von Varley _did_ request Leonie, seeing as she knows no others here. Do any of you volunteer to go with her, as she'll be rooming with two Black Eagles?"

Leonie rolls her eyes at the implication she has no choice in the matter, but gets to pulling out her uniform box. There is a silence surrounding the room, and the urge to bite heads off grows. _Can't trust anyone-_

"I'll go," Lysithea snaps with such vitriol that everyone jerks. The young teen jumps off her bunk with ease, grunting when she pulls her crates out from under the bed. Books are stacked on clothes, a little stuffed golden deer carefully tucked in the corner.

Leonie feels her lips twitch into something that looks grateful as she stacks her uniform box on top. With one lift, she has the four boxes in her arms, nodding to her future maybe-classmates, "Hilda, Marianne, see you at dinner tomorrow, yah?"

Marianne nods a bit fearful. Hilda huffs, displeased as she lies down, "Sure."

On the way out, the wards crumble unnoticed under Leonie's feather light touch. In minutes, they'll be completely gone.

Seteth leads them out into the night, across the fields to where the Black/Red Eagle's are to stay. The Blue Lions are in a different section altogether, something about how the rooms are going to work out. As soon as they touch grass, the man's long stride slows.

Seteth sighs, "Ms. Varley has also requested you be her… support item, Leonie."

It's Lysithea who blurts, "_Support item_?!"

"For the obstacle course," he drawls. Aims Leonie a concerned yet stern look, "I told her you were not an object. Her reply was that the only way she would be leaving her room without you was if she died and someone carried her body out. While I do believe there are ways to get her out, I do not want to test them."

"So, what?" Lysithea snaps, "You're letting her get away with being treated like a _child_?"

"_Lysithea_," Leonie warns, and whatever shows from the parts on her face visible behind the boxes and crates is enough to make the smaller teen flinch, "if you're going to act like this, it would be better if you stayed with Hilda and Marianne."

It's always the worst of humanity that stick around her head. Children are cruel with thoughtless words. Teens are cruel with words like knifes. Adults are cruel with their power and emotions.

Psychology of her old world reminds her not everyone thinks the same. Leonie misses the science, as all she has are scattered old teachings. She had to learn body language more than an opponent's thoughts. Instinct rather than social niceties.

But psychology… behaviours and context, actions and reactions, and the reason and theories of _why_.

Experiments and naturally horrible things documented, though likely not by Fódlan's Church, from what Leonie's seen. Or, more accurately, _not seen_. Anything morally reprehensible has been scrubbed from books, all approvals must be signed by Lady Rhea. Anything without her signature can cause the death of all involved.

_She would never let civilians play prison guard._

But experiments and a naturally horrible homelife are different things. One isn't in the purview of the Church.

_It's hard to forget how awful people can be, remembering the case, about a child left in a room, tied to a chair._

Leonie's read through her notes, caught up on who the kidnapped child is. From the few things there, from the reaction of the tiny teenager who clung to her because her Crest couldn't feel Leonie, the young woman's to-kill list got another few people added to it.

It's almost scary; Leonie remembers what caring feels like and _this isn't it_. Yet, she's ready to throw down with the next person who makes Bernadetta feel worthless.

_Maybe it's just the stress of it all._

And it isn't an accidental Crest bond. She's checked. Last she looked, Bernadetta only had three thin, fraying threads attached to her blood.

"I'd be happy to be her support item," Leonie tells Seteth from behind her the boxes. "I do appreciate you trying not to let her objectify me, though. Thanks, Seteth."

He sighs, "You are welcome, Leonie."

Lysithea grumbles, "_We_ didn't get any support items."

Now he just sounds amused, "Yes, well, the new students took one look at the course and banded together to complain it was unfair to do it without assistance. I am sure they have their own magical items to help them through."

Leonie rolls her eyes unseen. Lysithea voices her thoughts, "What magical item could help them that they could help with each other? There's got to be, what, twenty people by now?"

"Eighteen, and you would be surprised at how many people do not work together. Why, only after your test have the Knights begun helping each other through their workouts. The Captain is only encouraging it," that last part said exasperated.

The good mood only lasts until they see the crowd on the second floor of the Black/Red Eagle's sleeping arrangements. About five people are outside, trying their best to get a door open.

Seteth, in a flurry of cape and directed Crest power that feels of freshly cut grass in the air, demands, "_What is the meaning of this?"_

A teen with blonde hair, maybe a bit taller than Lysithea strides forward, _angry_, "Bernadetta won't let me in our room again."

Seteth breathes in through his nose, but Leonie's already dropped the stuff and parting the crowd. She knocks lightly, calling, "Hey, Bernadetta? Can you hear me?"

Blonde huffs, "We tried that-"

"Yes," comes the muffled reply.

Leonie ignores the roommate who's name she's yet to learn and continues, "It's me, Leonie." That draws a start from the crowd. "I do need to drop off my stuff in the room, but if you want us three to sleep somewhere else tonight, we can."

Lysithea and blonde puff up, ready to disagree, but Leonie ignores their thoughts for the small, "N-n-n-n-n-o, don't leave. I'll just-"

Then scrapes come from the room as heavy things are shoved aside. There are a few deep breathes, mutters of, "it's okay, it's okay," before the door is opened by the skin-and-bones teen.

Who promptly catches sight of Seteth, screams bloody murder, and slams the door.

"I think that went better than expected," Leonie tells the wood. "You did very well opening this door, Bernadetta. Everything is okay." She stops blonde from trying to get in, a cold smile dripping from Leonie's lips that has people not needing to be here scrambling away. "You did great. Do you think you can open it again?"

"NO!"

"Not even for me? I promise Seteth isn't going to go in. None of us are until you give us permission."

Lysithea groans quietly about this taking forever, blonde scoots back to complain with her. It takes another few minutes to assure Bernadetta that all they want is for her to open the door. She doesn't need to leave, doesn't need to look, and none of them will come in without her say so. An hour of just the two of them talking before only Leonie is allowed in with the crates. Five minutes of the purplette trying to crush her while also using Leonie as a shield to talk with Seteth. Twenty minutes to make Bernadetta an _Invisibility_ warded necklace that will last for as long as she sleeps.

Another five minutes, this time only Leonie talking with Seteth as she lies through her teeth about where she got the plain-looking invisibility-necklace Bernadetta now has. "I helped out a guy on the road and he gave it to me. It never did anything for me, so I guess it's Crest activated."

Maybe it's because he looks exhausted that Seteth doesn't fight it. Merely ascertains they will all be sleeping there until the next room change and leaves.

"I know we didn't have time before," Leonie says, taking the bunk below Bernadetta. The eldest in the room almost holds out a hand, but the blonde is obviously some kind of nobility, "but I'm Leonie. Nice to meet you."

"…Pleasure," is not-quite sneered her way. "My name is Aurora von Rand. Youngest of the House of Rand."

Leonie doesn't laugh. For some reason, she really, really wants to. Emotions missing their memories. "Guess I'm the only commoner in the room. Again."

"Pity to you."

_Oh yes_, this is going to be fun. Leonie almost wants to ink the wards and leave Ms. Rand out of it. But that would be cheating. "Ah well, you can all just teach me manners then. I hear there's a big difference between the way forks and spoons are used in the Alliance and Empire territories."

**2**.

Leonie drops into the seat across from Claude with a, "Good morning."

Always an early riser he greets her back, "How was your run?"

"Same old, same old. Apparently it's the Faith exam today, so I'm going to rope Raphael into coming with me to Fight Club. Have you been yet?"

"Not yet. Is it fun?"

"I enjoy it," she flashes a smile between a bite of her apple. "It's just fist fighting, but it's nice to finally have human opponents. Everyone in the village was either too old or too young to practice with. Oh, and just a heads up, Lysithea and I were moved to the Black-Red Eagles set-up last night."

Claude pretends he isn't bothered by the news, "Why's that?"

"Uneven numbers is the official word. Unofficially, I'm the only friendly face to that kidnapped girl. She's having a hard time adjusting, obviously."

"Obviously," he repeats in a tone too dry. Leonie narrows her eyes, hackles rising. "Hey, I'm glad she has someone. It's just… what about when school starts?"

"I'm hoping to get her a support system before that," Leonie admits a bit grimly. "If you can recommend any Eagles to start with…?"

He barks a laugh, "Not many are talking to me."

"Figures," she silently curses because it's got to be bigger than that. Claude is the next Golden Deer House Leader in all but blessing from the archbishop. Everyone knows it will happen, same with the two figureheads whose messengers arrived within days of each other. The fact no one is talking with him means she'll have to _teach a few lessons_ if her theory is correct. "I'll see who's coming in the next few days to try and set her up with something. Hey, I can point you to some Blue Lions if you're tired of seeing us everyday."

"But you're all such _great_ conversationalists."

Leonie snorts, thoughts breaking apart at his words. "Is this the part where I thank you for carrying most of the dinner conversations?"

It's his turn to cough, "…You're the only one who's noticed."

"I think we've all notice," at the very least how he makes sure to keep up-to-date on what they're doing for the day, "but at the very least, I appreciate it. Thanks, Claude."

His grin pulls into something a bit more real as he mock-bows against the table, "Why of course, Ms. Pinelli."

"Ugh," he's unfortunately learned how to get under her skin, "_please_ stop that."

"Since you asked so nicely."

He'll throw it at her tomorrow. They both know, all she does is roll her eyes. Takes another bite of her apple.

"I've been meaning to ask," he dangles a spoon in his hand, leaning on the other, "where do you keep getting apples?"

_Swallow_. "Found them, stored them. Why? You want one?"

"Sure, why not?"

Claude leans over to try and catch a glimpse, but Leonie's done this for too long. She tosses a new fruit at him, picking up the tray of food for her roommates in a slight of hand. "Catch you later. I have to make sure Bernadetta is capable of eating sizeable meals."

"Isn't that Manuela's job?"

"Do you think I _trust_ her?

He flashes a smirk, "Her class's Faith exam is tomorrow."

"Thanks for the heads-up."

**3**.

Unsurprisingly, Leonie cannot convince her roommates to join her in visiting Fight Club today. Aurora had made it clear the only reason she's here is to find a husband, which set Bernadetta off into another wail how she's unmarriageable. Leonie had to calm down both Bernadetta and Lysithea while Aurora had watched on in horror. The orange haired woman was almost too hesitant about leaving Bernadetta and Lysithea alone in a room together with no buffer between them, but Lysithea swore she'd try to be nice.

Leonie doesn't trust her, but she doesn't want to miss this event more.

A flash of peach-blonde has her changing trajectory, "Hey!"

The older young woman startles, though face as serene as always.

"Mercedes, right?" Leonie jogs to a halt.

"Yes. And you are Leonie?"

"Yah," grins, "How're you holding up?"

"Quite well, thank you," Mercedes' voice matches her blissed-out expression. A beautiful deception for one so intelligent. _Why are all the main-class students so drop-dead gorgeous?_ "The Blue Lions have been very inclusive, and my schooling has been arranged. Oh, you have already done the obstacle course, correct? Would you mind sharing some tips?"

"Sure! I'm on my way to the training grounds – Fists Club's using it today – and I'm planning to participate if they need anyone. If you're not up for that, the Faith exam for Hanneman's class is happening there too. Come watch if you want to get some tips for the coming year. It's allowed."

"That sounds wonderful," Mercedes breathes, following along in her ankle-length dress. "I think I would enjoy watching."

"Great! Oh yah, about the obstacle course. I'll be there for it, so don't worry too much. Here's what happened when I went…"

**4**.

In order for the training grounds to allow non-registered individuals inside, there's a set of rules magically inscribed on it which must be followed. The first is that there must be a registered personal already inside, and currently the registry contains all professors, several of Rhea's personal guards, the Captain of the Knights of Serios, the fighting instructor, and Seteth.

The second and last rule before other are allow in: there must be someone with B+ or higher rank healing on-site. With healing as her weakest skill, even if she could etch her name on there with magic, Leonie knows she wouldn't be able to sneak anyone else in. It's not worth the risk of expulsion _yet_.

"Pardon me!"

Leonie and Raphael break from their grappling, turning to the Captain of the Knights of Serios. Without magic strengthening her, she's breathing as hard as her acquaintance for a reason. They both nod respectfully, Leonie greeting, "Hello, sir."

"Oh, none of that now," he's about her height, brown hair and proudly in the – what Leonie thinks is ridiculous – official warrior gear. It sums up to lots of armour and a giant spiky shoulder pad. "Call me Alois. You two were part of the first group to do the obstacle course set for students, correct?"

"Leonie was," Raphael booms. "I've gone through it a few times, but I've not gotten a time near her and Claude's."

Leonie blinks, "Time?"

"Excellent!" Captain Alois grins wider. "How would you two like to be part of the Faith exam for the students here? We're short a few people expected in Fists Club and need more injuries for the students to test on."

Leonie kind-of hates the thought but-

"Aw, yah!" Raphael cheers. "That sounds awesome! Come on, Leonie, let's head over!"

"Sure," she smiles as though she isn't thinking about killing them all. It would be so easy; the Death Knight isn't even paying attention to them. _He'd be the first to go_. "Just tell us what to do."

They're given training gauntlets and told to go until first blood. Raphael and herself trade sheepish looks, the few Fight Club members who know what they're capable of are quick to pair up away from them. Leonie and Raphael are on par with some of the club's middle-ranked students for strength. A few of the ignorant high-ranked take them for the thought of an easy win.

Since she's been at Garreg Mach, Leonie never attacks first without an invitation. The young woman across from her smirks and charges at the whistle. Leonie takes the blow, her feet sliding back as her forearms endure the pressure.

She hears a, "_Heal!_" and feels rejuvenated. Now _this_ kind of practice she can get behind.

Leonie's stamina is a lot higher than most of the club members, fueled on by what would normally go towards her magic buffs. _Heals_ turn into _Recovers_ and, by the time fewer voices are shouting _Psychics_, Leonie's partner begins flagging. Someone casts a _Ward_ on another fighter, there's even a _Fortify_ near the end.

To make sure they're not the last ones fighting, Leonie twists a block in such a way it harmlessly draws blood. Her opponent backs off with a smirk, calling over that they're done. They shake and split, Leonie moving over to where Mercedes has drawn Raphael into a conversation about Faith spells.

_Good_, she thinks. Leonie would love a team full of healers. She catches sight of Jeritza watching closely and resigns to blipping on his radar. "Hey, how did look?"

Mercedes giggles, hand briefly covering her mouth, "You both did very well. Are all Golden Deer like yourselves?"

"Nah," there are eyes burning into the back of her white shirt. "I'm sure they could be one day, but Raphael and myself have been doing intense physical training for years."

"That's right!" Raphael puts his hands on his hips. It would be looming if he wasn't so sweet, leaning back and knowing how to light his face instead of shadowing it. "We've mostly been training by carrying supplies for the Monastery right now, since the weights room and here are reserved for the student's exam stuff. Leonie runs every morning, and I have an exercise routine I do in the morning and after dinner. If you want to join in sometime, offer's open."

"We get kind-of extreme with our workouts," Leonie quickly says. "So no pressure. But if you do want to run in the morning, I'll match your pace."

"Same with my workout!"

"Thank you both," Mercedes breathes, smile alight. Leonie can just pick out the gratefulness. "Maybe one day after, we've settled into our classrooms."

"Of course," Leonie winks, half turning as Captain Alois calls her name. "Don't hesitate to ask, okay?"

"I won't."

**5**.

"Ah, just," Captain Alois rubs the back of his head, "the way you moved reminded me of my old mentor."

"Captain Jeralt?" Leonie knows her eyes light up, a mix of relief she didn't have to bring it up herself and respect towards the man in question.

"Yes! How did you know?"

"He came by my village when I was younger," Leonie replies, practically giddy compared to her normal muted feelings. "Taught me practically everything I know. I still use drawings he left for stance practice."

"How did he seem? It's been ages since I last saw Captain Jeralt."

"He seemed well." _Don't mention the unknown gender kid_. "Got rid of the poachers in the area with his mercenary band. Drank a bit at night, but overall healthy."

"Didn't drink your tavern out of house and home, did he?"

Leonie makes a face. "My village doesn't have a tavern. Or a bar. We were pretty secluded, which is why we had to deal with poachers in the first place. Anyways, he's told me a lot about his travels. I think he's been all over Fódlan!"

Alois laughs, a deep gut chuckles, "That wouldn't surprise me. When he was at the Monastery, he travelled a lot too. I guess not even age would slow him down. Ah, but I do need to be going." He does look regretful. "If you'd like, I can tell you more stories about him sometime."

"I'd love that! Thank you, Captain Alois!"

"No, no," he shakes his head with another laugh, "can't have that. Any student of Jeralt's is a friend of mine. Just call me Alois."

There's a bit of fondness growing in Leonie's heart. He's much different than what she remembers. As honest and joyful as she expected. Real and open. "Thank you," _sir_.

He pats her shoulder and begins shouting orders to the knights who will judging Professor Maence's Reason exam. No magic tournament this year, seeing as not all students can even light a candle.

Leonie watches after him with a real, fond smile. _Alois has a family_, if she remembers correctly. He has a lot of great endings, as long as the main character recruits him. _They_ had a nice ending, where he got to live peacefully with his family.

She paid off Jeralt's bar tabs for the rest of her life.

Well…

_Sometimes you don't like the person you become._

It would be nice if he at least gets a happy ending.

**6**.

The risk of being late for dinner, in Leonie's mind, is worth indulging into this bit of curiosity. More students are to arrive tomorrow, and she's drawn a promise from Bernadetta that she'll be a weight while Leonie runs about. Until then, Bernadetta remains with five Crest bonds. Two new ones with Lysithea, two frayed and taunt ones stretched away from the Monastery, and one threadbare, _dull_ bond stretching beneath the Monastery.

Aurora likely already has a bond with someone of Bernadetta's Crest. At least Bernadetta's pull is so weak, the conflicts between them are settling into a minimum.

Leonie pauses in the darkness of a tunnel's roof, head tilted back and watching as another person moves through the shadows below. Honestly, she's more surprised she hasn't seen thieves or rogues wandering around before. The person below her is in certified Church clothing for his class, albeit dirt encrusted and stained from age and overuse. Having lost sight of Bernadetta's weakest bond in the cloying blanket, Leonie carefully, _silently_, follows along after the person. She eventually picks the thread again, just as the person below her stops in a dimly lit area.

She hesitates, watching the bond move down in a way that cuts through lingering threads. It moves down, do_wn, down,_ until her neck is as far back as possible. Leonie blinks.

Blinks again.

Stares in a bit of muted horror and awe at something most unexpected.

Blinks.

"-you find the prison?" asks the person Bernadetta is tied to. It is not an equal bond. The person – sounds male, looks feminine, but Leonie's not one to judge – is like Aurora in that sense. Only, Aurora does not have a Crest bond to give anyone. Not like _this_ person.

"Yes boss," the rouge says, back straight and with obvious respect for the person. Could be their one-way bond. "And… your mother."

There is a long silence. "So, he was telling the truth… Fine. We will reconvene in an hour, the usual place. I will bring a few others. I expect you to show us the way."

A salute, "Yes, boss!"

"Thank you," the person nods. "Dismissed."

The rouge goes scurrying away, back into the shadows. With the subordinate truly gone, the person puts their hands over their face, light purple hair spilling forward, "What a mess."

When he pulls away, Leonie goes still in order to not fall off the roof. As the sparkling subsides, the person's face looks different. It spreads over the body, the hair, changing the look from a young adult noble to a bit older, green haired assassin.

As the person goes to leave, it becomes harder to focus on them. Leonie grits her teeth and watches from the corner of her eye, the _Notice-Me-Not_ charm letting her see the Nabatean move away without registering and features.

Leonie blinks.

While the Crest Stone is protected by magic, the Crest bond isn't as it moves up, u_p, up_.

**7**.

Claude mocks her as Leonie drops onto the bench across from him, "And where were you last night young lady?"

There's a tiny squeak beside Leonie. It startles Claude so bad he drops the fork he was pointing with.

"I lost track of time and only just caught the end of dinner," Leonie shrugs, opening an arm for her charge to hide under. Great big purple, watering eyes stare at Claude as the teen girl tries not to hyperventilate. "Claude von Riegan, this is Bernadetta von Varley. Bernadetta, this is the future house leader of the Golden Deer."

"Hey now," Claude protests, eyes struggling to stay focused on the girl wearing a literal _Notice-Me-Not _warded charm bracelet. Leonie has very quickly learned that, since it's spelled with her magic, she is the only one to properly see through it. The issue with a ward compared to a charm is that it is incomplete, unable to shift to hide whatever the user thinks. The only sense muffled for others is sight, meaning Claude can still feel Bernadetta with his Crest. "That's not for certain. It is very nice to meet you, Ms. von Varley."

Bernadetta lets out a dying noise that can probably be translated as, "And you as well."

"Bernadetta was kind enough to be add weight for my jog today," Leonie says, pushing the tray of food over to the girl. Bernadetta pauses long enough to hawk-eye the threats before delving in. "She and Lysithea are going to be reading for the rest of the day," Leonie is very careful to roll her eyes out of the girl's view. "I'm heading down to the lower village later if you want anything."

"Nah, I'm good for now. Hey, Bernadetta," the girl 'eep's and meets Claude's surprisingly soft, friendly glance, "if you want to eat with us at dinner, it's alright. I promise we don't bite."

But, _of course_, Bernadetta doesn't get the nicety from the sentence, "You don't want me here now?! I'm so sorry- stupid Bernie- I-"

"None of that," Leonie gently keeps Bernadetta from jumping and running out of the room. "Of course Claude wants you here right now. He's only extending the offer to eat with him or the other Golden Deer whenever you want."

"_But he said_-"

"Dinner, yes, but really, it's always dinner somewhere."

Bernadetta's panicked breathing takes up the sound for a moment, Claude wisely sitting back to watch and refrain from doing more damage, before she decides curiosity wins, "What do you mean?"

So Leonie spends the next half-hour explaining planet rotation and sunlight hitting the ground, though Claude does not seem as surprised as the Black/Red Eagle at their table. They only break from the topic when people begin sitting closer, in which Bernadetta then realizes the room if half-filled with people and promptly flees before Leonie can calm her down.

"I'm going after her," Leonie sighs and drops her apple core on the tray.

Claude stops her before she lifts, "I'll get it."

Leonie pauses, warring between the usual self-dependence she's acquired over the years or chasing down a hysterical teen, "…Are you sure?"

His smile is still surprisingly soft, "I've got it. Go help her."

"…Thanks," Leonie flashes a matching soft, grateful look before she takes off running. Something to think on when her plate's a little less full of things to do. If she remembers, that is.

**8**.

There are moments, when a person knows they are being the one addressed. It's in the air, in the tone and, if the addresser is in view, in the body language.

"Excuse me, sir."

Leonie is one fluid motion, knowing she's the person being addressed. The addresser is right behind her, standing while Leonie kneels to chat with the village children who aren't playing tag. They're in a lighter traffic area because of so few shops, meaning the children aren't much of a bother running around. Leonie also happens to be the only non-busy looking adult in the area.

She's vaguely amused when she stands and turns, seeing the blonde noble recoil a bit at the mistake. Leonie doesn't bother to correct, "Yes?"

"My apologies-"

"It's fine," she rolls a shoulder. "I've been called worse." Leonie honestly doesn't care. It might even be nice to be called that, if she ever scrapes together a mercenary band. She thinks _boss_ and her smile grows a bit, though the sarcasm is hidden, "How can I help you?"

There's an orange-red haired teen further back, flirting with one of the few non-orphaned children's young mother.

The blonde squares her shoulders, green eyes wavering in her nerves, "My friends and I arrived at the Officer's Academy yesterday. We are currently exploring this village, and I noticed you are wearing the… er, lower half of the uniform."

"Oh, yah. I'm trying to get used to it. Work it in a bit. Seteth gives you a date to head to the tailors after you've been approved. Have you signed up for the obstacle course, or did you see Manuela?"

The blonde flushes, "Sylvain and I chose Manuela. Our other friends are participating in the obstacle course. We're supposed to be fitted… in an hour."

It clicks, Leonie looks over to the kids hesitantly talking and watching them, "Anyone want to go on a walk to the tailors with me?"

"Oh, you don't have to-" blonde cuts off at a few smiles and jumping kids.

Leonie winks, "We needed a walk anyways. Is, uh, that Sylvain?"

She already knows the answer.

Blonde goes completely red and makes a boiling kettle noise. She marches over, woman on a mission. Leonie rolls her eyes and smirks at the kids, "Remember all y'alls, no means no, and don't use or abuse. Communication is key in any relationship."

Probably-Ingrid begins scolding the teen, who quickly backpedals from the amused woman who was flirting back. Her child takes that moment to hurry over and hug his mother's leg, glaring daggers at the teen. Sylvain pales, hands up in surrender.

From behind Leonie, she hears a kid complain, "Adults are weird."

**9**.

Leonie doesn't think she's being particularly quiet, but all those years of practicing light footsteps and tracking game must be too low frequency for some people as she's startled a few Black/Red Eagles when she comes down the hall. The new arrival is no exception, "Hey, neighbor."

The new neighbor startles from her fidgeting, turning away from the door in a whirl of curls and crisp heel-toe. It's Leonie's turn to freeze as she's left staring at possibly the most beautiful person she's ever seen. Just for a moment, as her brain comprehends what's before her.

Softness, curls, a glowing skin that can happen from years on a stage. Confidence, grace, a figure many women would kill for. Jewels and dangles in all the right places, highlighting her in such a dreary hallway, and, most noticeably-

Very.

Familiar.

Green.

_Eyes_.

"Hello," greets the teenager with a charming smile. "How are you?"

"Quite well, thanks," Leonie's wondering how the f**k this is happening right now. "And yourself?"

Beauty Queen laughs tensely, "Do the nerves get better after the first day?"

"It takes a bit," Leonie admits, shifting the dinner tray on her hips. "But if you need any help, we're here for you. Well, I am at least. Name's Leonie. I'm officially a Golden Deer, but the way the rooms are I got shifted here."

"Oh," she looks both pleased and upset. "My name is Dorothea. Am I correct in assuming you are a commoner as well?"

"You got it. My roommates are all nobles- _actually_," Leonie feels her grin stretch conspiratorially, "one of my roommates, an Eagle, has been having trouble making friends recently. Would you mind having dinner with us in our room tonight?"

Dorothea relaxes, a bit uncertain but knowing this is a great opportunity, "I would be agreeable to it." Throws a wink, "As long as you're paying."

As Leonie looks into eyes so green and expressive, she knows this will be a great first step.

**10**.

_Why didn't you __**tell me**__ your daughter was going here?!_

_L_

* * *

**A/N:** **The first rule of Fight Club, it's actually named Fists Club. **

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to ShadowWolf223, xenocanaan, Greatest Guy, Math725e, guisniperman, HersheyBby, IReadNoNonsense, JoshuaFangurl, TheGiantRock, and Guest number 720 for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**For those curious, this chapters take place nearly a week into March (Lone Moon). In Chapter 10, off-screen the Golden Deer class went shopping the day they were all set to be tailored, and when Lysithea was busy with measurements they got the things needed for her birthday. When Saint Indech Day came around, Chapter Eleven contains what Leonie got up to because, while she knows about the Four Saints, she doesn't remember having days to celebrate them (her village only went full-devote a long while after she began spending days in the woods). Then the next morning is traumatizing. Then Bernadetta shows up. **

**Also, Leonie thinks Aurora's name is funny because her mind is translating it to Dawn of Edge.**

**Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone is well. Please take care **


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

**1**.

"-don't understand why they let Duscur filth into the-"

A teenager steps back at the sudden presence before them. Their friend's face is contorted in pain as their foot is crushed beneath a heel.

"You know," Leonie says pleasantly, sweetest of smiles on her face, "it isn't nice to call _anyone_ filth."

After she finishes _lecturing_ them on diversity, open-mindedness, and the negative impacts of judging a person by their racial markers and stereotypes, Leonie watches the teens run off with a roll of her eyes. They are the fifteenth case she's _taught_ today. If it's not hating people of Duscur, it's hating those from Almyra, or Brigid, or Dagda, or even Sreng. If it's none of those, it's people slamming other religions or dripping venomous words about going to school with commoners. It's as though someone kicked a hornet's nest, and now students and workers alike are participating in bigotry and racism.

Leonie's not too happy that her time exploring meant she missed this when it was subtle. The only good thing to come from the vocalization is that she can mark who to watch for. The _Notice-Me-Not _charmwith its _Invisibility_ factor as high as she can make it means nothing can get traced back to Leonie. They can hear the distorted words but have no idea who the offender harming them, and their sensibilities, is.

Leonie glances back at the three calico cats who have been trailing her all day. Their gazes snap to hers the moment the charm falls. The human flashes a grin and gets back to walking, the cats keeping pace.

Plausible deniability and all that. If someone were to figure out who the newly rumored _Phantom of the Monastery_ is, then just maybe a few _Crest shards_ would go missing as well. Not that she told the cats she knows their secret, but she figures they got the _point_ of her spiel.

_Isn't it interesting, though, that the only mutterings about nobles are about adopting or marrying into nobility? _Maybe a little jealousy, but no anger. No discontent. Just little daydreams about being them one day. To break those thoughts will require a little more noticeable of an effort, someone to tell them _there are more commoners than nobles_. Someone to say _there is so much a commoner can do without the responsibility of caring and protecting and growing the large territory and people under them_.

But Leonie won't be the one to seed any dissent there, not with the Church and other eyes looking for the outliers. She won't lie, but she won't push for a backbone in the commoner population. Not yet. Maybe not ever, if she can't find the energy to do so.

**2**.

"Morning, Claude," Leonie greets as though she isn't _screaming_ inside, "You remember Bernadetta? And this is Dorothea. Ladies, Claude von Riegan."

Claude looks his cousin in the eye and smiles his usual meet-and-greet look, "A pleasure to meet you.

Dorothea grins back, "Likewise."

Leonie just about head-bangs the table.

_They don't know._

Her letter better get to Godfrey. _He better write back fast._

"Leonie was telling me you were apart of the first group of students to participate in the obstacle course," Dorothea says, warming her hands around the morning soup bowl. "I'm not doing it myself, but I am going to go and cheer on the other Black Eagle students."

After being so used to Claude at the very least loosening his guard around her, Leonie's keeping an eye on how perfectly natural his electric stare is. No emotions in his eyes, hand under his chin, "Oh? I guess I should go too. All of the future Golden Deer students are already here, just a few left to run the course."

Leonie doesn't let it show how much that shocks her. She feels the warmth draw away from her chest, knowing from the way he says it that the statement is true. There are _fourteen_ future Golden Deer students set up in the Monastery's extra rooms. Even now, there are at least twenty Black/Red Eagles and over thirty Blue Lions. Better chances for her to get in the main class, but still. _Fourteen_.

"I'm running it again with Bernadetta," Leonie announces to him, watching closely. Claude's gaze doesn't so much as crack as it reasserts. _Interesting_. "Did you know they're allowed support items?"

His smile doesn't so much as twitch, "You would have known if you went to see it."

Leonie visibly rolls her eyes and head, "I'm usually helping Flayn tune instruments at that time. It honestly wouldn't surprise me if Seteth sets up this thing in the exact time he knows she won't be watching."

"Oh?" Dorothea mutters, intrigued. "I haven't met Flayn yet."

"She's Seteth's little sister," Claude elaborates. Leonie's just happy she didn't have to explain; _perfectly fine lying about it but it would be so much funnier to hint at the truth_. "I haven't seen them interact much, but he can be very protective of her. Almost too much."

Leonie snorts behind her apple. "Did you get the shovel talk, too?"

Bernadetta stutters and squeaks from between the ladies, "W-what's a s-shovel… _talk_?"

Leonie takes a moment to look at the curious faces from all three of them, though admittedly Bernadetta's is more fearful. "Ah, sorry. It's a figure of speech. It means, when someone in interested in pursuing a relationship with another person, the other person's family gives the pursuer a talk around the lines of 'hurt them, and no one will find your body'."

Claude doesn't even hide his shock, "Well, that's an intense reaction."

Dorothea even looks a bit ill, "Is that… a common occurrence in your village?"

No. It's not even a common line of thinking in Fódlan. "Not nowadays. Though, let me know if I need to give it to someone for you. It's a good way of scaring off potential suitors whose heart isn't in the relationship."

"Please," rips from Bernadetta's, face hopeful. "I give you full permission to talk to suitors for me."

Claude cracks a real smile while Leonie chokes a laugh. Dorothea looks vaguely exasperated, "I don't think that's how it works, Bern."

For positive reinforcement, Leonie nods and smiles at the use of the nickname. After the episode of Bernadetta's possible split-personality that's likely based on – or represents – her abusive father, the older teens had a chat about not using _Bernie_ as a nickname until the young Black/Red Eagle is ready. Leonie's more partial to Detta, but she isn't going to use it until the teen is comfortable hearing her full name in an outside setting with _no force or expectation behind it_.

She really needs to introduce Bernadetta to Raphael and, _especially_, Ignatz soon. It would probably go better to balance the meeting of commoners and nobles, but Bernadetta's thinking that any commoner with less visible muscle mass than her father is going to end up killed needs to be disproven fast. Having her sit next to Dorothea is the biggest jump in their relationship all week, but that could be attributed to Dorothea teaching them the motion to dislocate wrists with barely a twitch of fingers last night.

"Of course I'll help vet your suitors," Leonie assures earnestly, not looking at anyone when she continues, "for all ya'lls." She doesn't want to see their faces. "I won't let anyone take advantage of you."

_There is a war to win. Who will you choose?_

Dorothea huffs, "While that is sweet, Leonie, I do not want you chasing off any potential suitors for _me_."

She can't help the cheeky, "As you wish."

But of course, no one gets the reference. Instead, Leonie avoids looking full-on at Claude, gazing up through the windows above him to get an idea of the time. It's the calm before the mess she's been avoiding. She'd followed a thug to the secret prison that's full of _civilians_. One guarded by people in hooked masks like something out of the black plague.

She'd overheard the prison guards pondering the use of experimentation as a threat if no results came from the Abyss' double agent.

It took everything in her to keep the air from igniting.

"So," Leonie swallows the bite of her apple. "Dorothea, Bernadetta," the young woman's gaze scans Claude's just enough to see he's still distancing from them, "I've been meaning to ask, how is the food in the Empire?"

Dorothea rests her chin on her hand, "What do you mean?"

"I've tried a few things on the menu," Leonie motions back to severing counter, "and I've noticed a lot of the meals from the Empire are fished-based. Lysithea's used to eating them because she lived close to the see, but I was wondering if it was, like, a staple or something for the Empire. I'm used to more foraging type meals and fattier meats."

"That sounds about right," Dorothea hums. "The Empire gets a lot of trade, particularly from its vassal states. Staying with Countess Adler," she throws that context out for Claude, "I grew up more inland, but the diet was plenty of seafood." A cute laugh, "Definitely not tree fruits every day."

Leonie tosses an apple onto the brunette's tray, "I've got plenty more if you need a daily dose."

She finally looks over to Claude's perfectly friendly mask when he asks, "Do you have any other-"

He catches the pear she tosses his way. Blinks at it, then at her as Leonie takes a bite of her apple with raising eyebrows. Claude laughs and the mask reasserts, "How'd you know what I was going to ask?"

"I keep several fruits on me at all times," is the non-answer and understatement, "but I guess I kind of do eat apples more than others. I like being surprised with how sweet or sour they can be."

Also, eating an apple makes her look more like an a*****e. It turns people off from interacting with her. And, _an apple a day keeps the healers away_.

"Ah," Leonie squints and there's a slight breeze as she finishes the fruit. "Bernadetta, are you almost ready to go? We'll need to sign-in with Seteth if I'm remembering right."

The teen squeaks and chugs back her soup. Claude and Dorothea look to the windows, Dorothea protesting, "There isn't a need to rush."

"We're about fifteen minutes away from the hour," Leonie has a talent of reading the sky after all these years outdoor, but the bell tower here has been very helpful with how far its reach extends. "There's bound to be a lineup. From what I've, um," Leonie can't help the cough at the second-hand embarrassment, "heard about the other _times_, I'd rather see about us getting into a group that can do it in under thirty minutes."

Claude apparently can't help a snicker, "It's the climbing wall that gets them stuck. Seteth put on some kind of ward that makes it impervious to magical attacks."

"Raphael could probably punch through it," Leonie says off-handily as she slings an arm over Bernadetta's increasingly shaking shoulders. At the feeling of being hidden under an object unimportant enough for Crests to see, the youngest relaxes. Leonie's chest itches at the partial activation of the diverter ward. "We've got this. Worst comes to worst, I'll just get you over the wall and run around it myself. I'm the support item, remember? Not an actual competitor."

In the corner of her eye, Leonie catches a shift over Claude's face. She looks over in time to see him take a bite of the pear.

"Well then," Dorothea smiles like grace and perfection, "I shall look forward to seeing you two in action."

**3**.

"Oh, Leonie!"

The orange haired young woman and her purplette teenage possible-friend turn at the shout, breaking off their planning session for the obstacle course. Bernadetta whimpers and ducks behind Leonie out of new habit, while Leonie beams a smile with a wave, "Ingrid, Sylvain, how's it going?"

Sylvain musters up a smile from behind Ingrid, where he's just been dragged away from flirting with older students, "Hey, Leonie."

Satisfied he isn't about to start up again, Ingrid releases her stranglehold and grins at the future Golden Deer student, "Are you here to cheer on your friends?"

"Well…" Leonie risks a glance behind her, "I'm actually a support item. Bernadetta? I promise they don't bite." A head of purple hair and matching coloured eyes peek around, Leonie holding up an arm so she gets a better view. Out of the teen's sight, Leonie holds up a 'one moment' finger for the future Blue Lions. "Do you feel up to introducing yourself?"

Bernadetta takes a couple of deep, heaving breaths. Then she steps out just far enough to make a fist and do the Kingdom's greeting bow, "My name is Bernadetta von Varley! _Please call me Bernadetta!_"

While Ingrid is busy looking confused, it's Sylvain who steps forward and does the greeting bow back, "Greetings, Bernadetta. My name is Sylvain Gautier."

"Er, yes. And I am Ingrid Galatea. A pleasure to meet you."

"_You as well_," Bernadetta squeaks and then ducks behind Leonie again. The pause lasts for a few seconds. "How did I do?" comes muffled from her shirt.

"That was great," Leonie folds an arm behind her to pat the teen's shoulder. "You're a natural at this."

Bernadetta groans at how she doesn't want that.

"Are you here to cheer on your friends?" Leonie diverts the topic so the other heirs don't question the particulars of the situation.

"But of course," Ingrid's gaze still lingers on where Bernadetta disappeared, concerned.

"Yah," Sylvain sighs and crosses his arms behind his head, eyes pointedly going towards the sets of future Blue Lions being sorted into groups. "Felix would never let us live it down if he kicked His Highness' royal behind and we weren't here to see it."

"Sylvain!" Ingrid snaps, but Leonie's more interested in one of the peach-blonde future Blue Lions talking with another orange haired teen.

On instinct, before the girls' group moves to the start line, Leonie gets up on her toes, one hand cupping around her mouth while the other waves when her potential-friend glances their way, "Mercedes! Good luck!"

Mercedes waves back, shoulders shaking and hand daintily covering her mouth as she giggles.

"Sorry," Leonie turns to gaping future Blue Lions. "I wasn't able to tell her good luck this morning. So, who are you watching?"

Sylvain smirks like she told a great joke and points to a group behind Mercedes'. The group of three is staring at the four in varying degrees of emotion, but they're too far away to make it out, "Dedue is on the left, Felix is on the right, and in the middle is His Highness, the crown prince, Dimitri Blaiddyd."

Leonie blinks a few times while that processes, "Huh."

Bernadetta is making, "Please don't make me introduce myself to them," noises against her support item's back.

"Don't worry, Bernadetta," Leonie pats the girl's back. "It looks like he's a bit busy with other admirers." Turns raised eyebrows towards Ingrid and Sylvain, "What are the chances that the Crown Prince and next leader of the Roundtable Alliance are in the Officer's Academy at the same time?"

Sylvain startles, arms dropping, while Ingrid does a full double-take, "I beg your pardon?"

"Claude von Riegan," Leonie explains like she isn't setting up gossip to get back to the crown prince, "is heir to House Riegan. He's set to lead the Roundtable when his grandfather eventually retires," or dies, "so now I'm curious if the Empire's princess will also be coming."

"Huh," Sylvain looks thoughtful, though his gaze does stray to Leonie's side where Bernadetta is having a wave of jittering anxiety at the thought, "I guess she would be about our age group. Ingrid?"

"I guess we can only wait and see," the blonde is looking back at her friend group with a worried frown. "My apologies, Bernadetta, Leonie. We must be going to support our friends."

"Oh, yah, no worries. Thanks for stopping to chat. Hope to see you all around sometime, maybe at dinner or something."

Sylvain chuckles and waves at Bernadetta's peeking head. The teen yelps and ducks back, though does offer a wave. Ingrid flashes a strained smile, "Of course. Sylvain, let's go."

Only when they're a great distance away does Bernadetta step out with a heaving breath.

"I'm proud of you," Leonie tells her, gently steering her towards the assembling Black/Red Eagles.

After a long moment of fidgeting, Bernadetta hangs her head and mutters, "It was not as horrible as I thought it would be."

"That's great to hear." She lets the younger one stranglehold her arm. "And, hey, practice only makes things easier. Soon, you probably won't even need me around."

"T-that's not true!" but Bernadetta is smiling a bit after she catches Leonie's joking expression. "I'll need you! Especially for riding lessons."

Leonie laughs, "I told you I'm not _that_ good."

"But you know how to ride a horse. That's more than Lysithea or- or Dorothea. And- and you can find someone to teach us how to fly!"

"I'm glad you have faith in me," Leonie's face pinches in thought, not noticing her sarcasm isn't picked up. "Maybe I can see if Claude or Hilda can offer any tips. Their families are known for training wyverns; I just wouldn't want to risk getting any bad habits from teaching ourselves."

"That sounds good to me," Bernadetta then ducks back behind Leonie as Seteth appears to begin directing newer students into lines. At least she's coming along with her courage when facing her peers.

**4**.

The wait to begin the course takes longer then expected because someone apparently stumbled into and _through_ the weak point of the climbing wall. Leonie's resolved not to exploit that part of the structure left by Lysithea, and Seteth sternly tells them they can go only if they promise not to charge through the wall like the last group. As she lines up with Bernadetta on her back, Leonie can name the other three students lined up even if she doesn't _know_ them. Judging by how beautifully plain they all are, not a one will be in the main class for the Eagles.

Leonie's very curious where the other main class students are at the moment.

At the signal, she takes off in relatively the same pace as last time. Only, this time the students also running it don't seem nearly capable of keeping up. It bothers her, knowing Seteth placed her with the assumed best cases. Leonie and Bernadetta are over the bars before they're through the through the second obstacle.

Bernadetta, holding on strong enough to strangle a person who isn't using _Durability_, grins and giggles against the wind. She quietens when they reach the wall, looming bigger than Leonie's first go. Mutters to herself, "Oh no, how are we going to get over it?"

"Give me a second," Leonie strides confidently to the bricks. She places a hand on it and silently _Investigates_ the magic sown into it. She grins and lifts her palm, fingertips holding. Whatever ward is on here prevents spells meant to cause harm, nothing else. "Okay, I'm going to begin climbing."

Bernadetta whimpers and tries to hold tighter. Leonie makes sure to place her fingers in grooves to make it look good. Climbing down is, in fact, harder than going up. Especially since _Durability_ promises her legs won't sting on impact if she jumped. The rest of the course is easy in comparison, Seteth congratulating Bernadetta for passing the test with, "great ingenuity."

Claude and Dorothea walk over – side by side and yet so apart – congratulating Bernadetta and Leonie for making it so fast. They all ignore the students not even over the bars yet.

Claude slings an arm over Leonie's shoulder, "How was it this time?"

Dorothea has Bernadetta's hands clasped in one of her own, wiping the tears her praises cause the younger teen.

"About the same," Leonie gently nudges his side, shooting a grin, "though I missed having a helping hand."

His smile widens before reasserting back to the friendly look, arm sliding off as he moves to tease Bernadetta a little. Leonie shakes her head and follows after to defuse anything if Bernadetta takes it the wrong way, already the girl is gripping Dorothea a bit too tight.

Leonie really should be assisting all her time to Bernadetta's adjustment period.

If only the feelings of friendship were there instead of the closest thing to protectiveness she's ever felt this life.

It would be so much easier to care about their futures if they were her friends.

_But Fire Emblem was never about the easy path._

**5**.

"Alright," Claude interrupts the small debate happening between Leonie and Ignatz about dawn vs. sunset paintings, Raphael and Hilda's conversation about strength training exercises, and Marianne, Lorenz, and Lysithea's noble doctrine discussion, by dropping his tray of food rather dramatically and standing a moment longer than necessary, "who here has been waylaid Phantom of the Monastery?"

He looks surprised as Hilda, Leonie, and Lorenz raise their hands.

"I got a lecture on trespassing and rules keeping me safe after I stumbled into an out of bounds area," Leonie explains her lie. Always have a cover, after all.

Lorenz clears his throat, irritated, and offers, "I was thrown into an empty classroom and was explained why insistence might become a deficient trait."

His lecture was on _no means no_, but close enough.

"I was told not to foster character building activities onto other people," Hilda makes a face. "Judgy creep. Why do you ask?"

"Seteth wants a headcount of who's interacted with the person," Claude – probably – lies. In the interest of fairness, he got a lecture on not insulting his hosts the day before because Leonie found him talking smack to himself about the Church in a deserted part of the Monastery. "I think they're planning to crack down on whoever is pretending to be a ghost just to yell at people."

"Good," Hilda decrees.

Leonie keeps eating dinner and nods and smiles where appropriate. She can't decide whether Claude suspects one of them and is warning them, or if Seteth has even spared a thought to the haunting reports with all the paperwork he has. In better news, the sword exam begins in two days. Tournament-style knockout where the top ten are guaranteed extra marks on their Master Class exams.

Which means it's time to get her affairs in order.

**6**.

Once Leonie finds an entrance to Abyss, the search for Bernadetta's Nabatean goes smoothly. He is in a coliseum-like room with three Crest-bearing humans, the Nabatean being called Yuri by them as they all hack and slash at monsters. In the end of it all, the young woman with vibrant red hair thanks them for allowing her to sigh. There is another lady there, all haughty and with a laugh that sounds too fake to be real. The last and biggest guy there could probably give Raphael a run for his money with how strong he looks.

'Yuri' urges them to return without him, saying he'll deal with the looting and fading bodies. Once they're gone, and Leonie's tied a rope to the strongest support beam she can, the young woman slides down from the ceiling like a spider. She watches him dig for a while in the dissolving bodies of Reason magic before ending several spells and a charm, letting out a, "So."

That's all it takes. He's spun around, dagger flying so fast no magicless human could see it. Leonie catches in her hand, a little blood spilling as the dagger_ stops the healing of whatever touches it_.

If there was any doubt of his lineage, he can see through the diverter ward just fine. Thankfully, he does not attack again. Slow, swaggering footsteps her way. The air grows colder, "Who. Are. _You_?"

Leonie's normal grin never abates as she drops from the rope, tossing him the dagger hilt-first, "No one important. I'm just bored enough to go looking for a fight, and I'm hoping you'll help me find one."

He snorts, his continually even tone reflecting how bland he feels towards her, "I don't believe we've ever met, so why would you think I could deliver you a fight?"

Leonie. Keeps. Grinning. The feel of his Crest strands is that of a skating rink, cold and condensed. One wrong move to end up falling. In a strange way, it's rather exciting to be doing something unexpected. She's a lot more open to the option after years of monotony. "I happened to stumble across a prison filled with civilians. The guards were pondering if they might be able to motivate a Yuri by threatening to experiment on the prisoners."

He isn't blinking with how still his rage is.

"I don't like suffering, less so their kinds of _experimentation_," Leonie is sure all her teeth are showing with how wide her grin stretches. "So I wanted to make sure I wasn't screwing anything up for their double-agent if I went ahead and _killed all the non-prisoners_."

He blinks. Blinks again. _Smiles_. Throws his head back with an insane laugh. The air is filled with a cold so sharp, it could be a murder weapon. When he calms down enough to show her frozen purple eyes, the smile is thinned, "And what do you want in return?"

Leonie holds out a hand, "You don't tell _anyone_ about me."

If it weren't for _Durability_, he would have crushed her.

**7**.

Here are the things 'call me Yuri' tells her:

His 'mother' is one of the prisoners.

If his real boss ordered him to attack now, he would have to. In doing so, his 'mother' would be lost.

There is an important Church figure working for the people holding the civilians captive. He isn't important, just another pawn for the real enemy: _Those Who Slither in the Dark_.

None of the head figures for the evil organization are currently here, so it's the sympathizes she'll be taking out.

She'll need to take them all out at once in order for the civilians to escape.

He has a plan for that.

Here is what he doesn't tell her:

He loves the person he calls 'mother', possibly more than Sothis.

He doesn't elaborate as to who his real boss is.

Who the important Church person is and what they get out of double-crossing Rhea.

When she is going to stir-up trouble.

What his plan is to save the civilians.

"Do you really care to know?"

"Mmm, not really. Not if you're going to deal with the Church traitor personally."

Call-me-Yuri's thin smile stretches to reveal sharp teeth, an understanding passing between them, "I will."

**8**.

Even though she had appeared from the cavern's roof without him noticing, Yuri still made it clear he didn't trust her ability to go unnoticed. However, it isn't his problem if she gets caught. It will be a problem if she backstabs him. So, just before the bell sounds for mid-day, just before the guard switch high above them, they stand in the shade of a cavern before the plains below Garreg Mach Monastery's great bridge.

"The moment we step foot out there, Rhea's _puppets_ will activate," for being a person with very little facial expression, Yuri does good work expressing himself in tone alone. The dripping disdain gives Leonie reason enough not to want to meet these _puppets_. "Directly across from here is the Chalice I am supposed to get in exchange for the prisoners' lives. I found it years ago after sneaking around the long way, however we do not have the time for that if you wish this to be done before the new year."

Leonie keeps him in the corner of her eye, watching the empty plain for any hidden surprises, "Did you leave a marker or something?"

Yuri's lips thin, "There are the markings of the four apostles' Crests surrounding a hole I made. You will not be able to get the Chalice without one of those Crests."

Being so careful with her apathy showing, Leonie snorts through her usual smile. "That won't be a problem."

He stills for a moment, the air getting colder again as he tries to force through her diverter ward. Down here, on the edges of the blanket of threads, his attempt is not even in the top three of strongest Crest bonds to go sliding around her. Almost like he's forgotten how to use his heart. "Do you have a Crest of the apostles?"

Leonie neither confirms nor denies, instead flashing a smirk before rushing out into the light. Above her, the first gong echoes from the bell tower. The only annoyance of being so far down from the Crest blanket is that now magic doesn't instinctively come from the air around her. It comes from the energy Leonie holds in herself, and within moments she can feel the very small fat stores she's been growing fall away.

She is _Invisible_. She is _Silent_. She is a _Lightweight_, leaving behind no footprints as she runs.

Around her, horrible monstrosities whir to life and fill the plains. As she darts around them, Leonie thinks she hears _screaming_.

Only, it's not inputting through her ears.

Leonie focuses on how technologically advanced these horrors are. Lets that fuel her indignation as she _Speeds_ up. Ignores the sounds in her head as she looks for the hole.

_There_.

Leonie takes a moment to breathe, hands on her knees as she tries to get moisture back in her mouth. While she waits, she makes sure to jot down the symbols and mark them as unknown Crests. There is only one requirement to getting behind the wall, and from what she can tell it doesn't even cover anywhere but the plain's facing side. If she had any better an ability with earth magic, or even more time and a shovel, Leonie could dig her way to the prize.

Instead, she goes with the second-worst option. Leonie undoes her _Silence_ in order to shout, _"Dispel!"_

As one, the puppets turn with howls and converge. Leonie darts into the crumpling stone, grabbing the flash of gold. She _Silently_ jumps into the air with a burst of _Strength_, practically floating down as a _Lightweight_. The puppets may not be able to see or hear her, but she has to be careful not to bump into the swarm. Leonie does not turn anything off until she's once again in the shadow of the caverns, startling Yuri enough to jump at her appearance.

"Ta da," Leonie drawls, shaking the cup and pretending her heart isn't beating a mile a minute. She hasn't had fun like that since searching out a monster's den years ago.

Yuri, for all his cool aesthetic, appears stunned as he warily looks between her and the howling puppets in the distance, their noises being blocked by the twelfth and final toll. Whatever he wants to ask, he decides against, holding out a hand for the Chalice of Beginnings, "Thank you for retrieving it."

Leonie holds it out but doesn't let go when he grabs it, "You _will_ be able to keep it safe for three days, yah?"

"I will," he promises. Leonie releases. "No one will remember you when you attack, will they?"

He's asking more out of curiosity than concern. Leonie winces as her stomach growls loudly, but shrugs, "If you want, no one will even know I was the one attacking. They'll blame it on something ridiculous, like the Phantom of the Monastery or something."

Yuri lips twitch at the smile, but he gives no recognition of the title away, "Best go with that. Now, I will be off."

"And was there a third party assisting you at any time?" Leonie drawls the sarcastic question.

"Never," Yuri replies. "I retrieved the Chalice all on my own."

Leonie raises a hand at his retreating back, wondering just how much mass she lost and if it reflects on her face. Her fingers are a bit slimmer, but the callouses haven't deflated. She pulls at her fingerless glove, but everything looks the same.

Idly, she ponders if the Nabatean realized there was no magic left on the chalice. Her _Dispel_ was a little too strong, ripping past the one spelled barrier and into whatever had been attached to the cup. She never would have handed it over if it _had_ anything on it but, since it's literally only something to drink out of or throw at people now, that doesn't matter. If Yuri had the ability to place the magic back on it, there would have never been a reason for them to get the chalice.

Leonie cannot wait to finally have access to the library. She remembers nothing about apostles or a Chalice of Beginnings.

Maybe, when she has time, she'll be able to scour the Abyss. It's not like Yuri could stop her. Not like he'll want to, with how she's promised to help him in exchange for anonymity. If he ever breaks the promise, the spell she had ready on their shaking hands will leave him to regret it for as long as Leonie lives.

**9**.

On the day of the sword skill tournament, Leonie drags her roommates to watch. Aurora feigns interest until she realizes most of the audience are future noble students and then ditches them to go solo introduce. Lysithea makes sure she and Bernadetta get seats, Leonie standing behind them leaning on a pillar to not block anyone. They're still early, the fighters with C Rank and higher begin in an hour. Lysithea tuts at the sloppy forms.

Bernadetta, huddling close to Lysithea, turns big wide eyes on Leonie, "Can I borrow a sword like Lysithea?"

Leonie tilts her head impeccably, "It's just until the school year begins… Lysithea, do you still have a copy of my notes?"

"Yes," she turns to give Leonie a stern look. "I even inked it like you said."

"Awesome," Leonie turns to Bernadetta, "I'll get you sorted tonight. Have you been using the sword with Lysithea?" The teen shakes her head. "Okay, then I'll find you one. Just, don't put any force behind it if you two decide to practice moves against each other. I don't want them breaking." No need to reinforce the feeling that she's going against an integral part of her being by _lending_ weapons to people.

_My preciouses._

"Do you have notes for other things?" Lysithea asks, finally.

"Sure do," Leonie crosses her arms behind her head, watching the next E Ranks settle into position. "Lances, axes, and horseback riding. Let me know if you want them." The rest are only theories.

A few more rounds later, they're watching is interrupted by a smooth, "Ladies."

"Hey," Leonie greets the two future Lions. "Glad to see friendly faces here."

Sylvain laughs as Felix scowls harder behind his back, "Same. We weren't going to come until later, _but_ it was either follow Ingrid to the Pegasus stables or His Highness to the tailors."

"This is definitely the better choice," Leonie agrees sagely, "even if none of the main class have appeared yet."

"Really?" Felix drawls. "So they all get raised to a higher standard?"

"I'm not sure yet," Leonie nods over to next set of E Ranks. "We haven't had anyone with at least a D Grade scoring yet."

He eyes her, "How are you with a blade?"

Sylvain groans, "Felix."

"Better with a lance," Leonie shrugs her answer. "Well, that and a bow. I can hold my own in a sword fight, but I know where my strengths lie."

Lysithea catches the teen's disdain, turning to face the heirs with her own, "Don't dismiss her yet. Leonie is much better than this display, and probably a better teacher than theirs."

It has been a lot of Hanneman's students so far. He is known for his preference of teaching magic.

Felix eyes the wisp of girls sitting, "Has she been teaching you?"

"Leonie has assisted me, yes."

"Then I guess we shall see."

Sylvain sighs, "And now that _that's_ out of the way, ladies, this is Felix Fraldarius."

"Men," Leonie says in reply, "may I introduce Bernadetta von Varley and Lysithea von Ordelia. Lysithea, the orange haired one is Sylvain Gautier. Bernadetta met him before she ran the obstacle course. The dudes are both future Lions."

Sylvain chuckles while Felix is still looking a bit affronted at the 'dudes' part. Sylvain gently elbows Leonie, coming to relax beside her, "It was definitely a different 'run' then the others."

"Didn't your friend crash through the wall?"

"His Highness? Oh yes, it's a great reminder in case his ego ever grows."

Leonie hums and smiles a bit softer, prouder, "Lysithea used magic to blow a hole in the wall when we ran it."

"No way," Sylvain cheers. Even Felix looks impressed. "That was you?"

"You don't need to sound so surprised," Lysithea huffs and crosses her arms, turning away to hide her grin. "I happen to have a real talent in Reason magic. It's too bad Seteth blocked magical attacks on the wall."

They turn to watching the tournament with her, Bernadetta giving a shy wave to the sharp-looking Felix. He gives a small nod in return, ignoring how the girl 'eeps' to watch for weaknesses in the sword wielders' defences.

**10**.

On day two of the tournament, Leonie watches beside Hilda as Monica destroys her opponent with ease.

"Isn't she so great," the pinkette gushes.

"Yah," Leonie admits, smiling her usual smile, "she's pretty great."

_And still here_.

Leonie had been expecting the disappearance for a while. She's a bit concerned it _won't_ be Monica getting kidnapped. At least if it's her, everything is still boringly predictable, in place, and running with fate. Leonie knows the names and faces of every student and future student currently in the Officer's Academy. Whoever goes missing, she'll know before the fixed point who's to be Jeralt's killer.

Already three people have dropped out while she's been here. However, they were given send-offs, not just straight-up disappeared.

Monica easily advances to the next round. Leonie smiles and cheers with the teen's friends, not meaning an ounce of the enthusiasm she shows.

Someone is going to suffer, and she's going to let it happen. If she wasn't going to bed exhausted every day, Leonie is sure she wouldn't be sleeping well.

_Tomorrow can't come soon enough._

* * *

**A/N: In a whim of trying to relieve stress and escape the influx of cannon characters, Leonie inadvertently kicks off the DLC at super speed before the main character can arrive.**

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you xenocanaan, IReadNoNonsense, guisniperman, Math725e, Genin, HersheyBby, JoshuaFangurl, and Guest number 720 for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**I do really enjoy reading thoughts and theories, and I'm glad the Dorothea reveal went well (I'd been itching to write it for ages). I hope the side plot with Yuri doesn't feel rushed, there's more to come with the Abyss and inhabitants and this ties into a bigger thing coming. **

**Also, a lot of nobles incoming. **

**Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone is well. Please take care **


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

**1**.

Monica does not make it to the finals on day three of the tournament. She doesn't even get to the top ten. What does happen is that her teacher lifts her final grade to B Rank in swordsmanship purely because the teen was well into the thick of the strongest before she finally lost.

It leaves a bitter taste in Leonie's mouth as she congratulates the teen with the others. Jeritza watches them for a time, and all Leonie can think is _orange, red, pink_.

Herself, Monica, Hilda.

And only one is a no-name commoner.

"You go on ahead," Leonie encourages the few future Golden Deer to have lunch with the older students. "I'm going to stick around to the end."

"Boring," Hilda mutters, waving goodbye and dragging the other girls along.

Leonie takes the empty spot in the shadows to take a break from the sun. Across the training grounds, watching another fight, are all the future Blue Lions. Mercedes and probably-Annette are talking with probably-Ashe. Sylvain is flirting a little bit away with a female student while Ingrid and Felix are engrossed in the two A+ Ranks battling it out. Prince Dimitri and his retainer Dedue are watching the entire arena best they can.

The young woman looks away before they scan her again. In the rings, she's been seeing a lot of techniques she can't wait to try out. Leonie would pull out her book to sketch them if that didn't draw people over to ask if it's magic. Food would be even worse, getting her kicked out for bringing any into the training hall. Only water allowed.

Leonie sighs, taking a glance at the open roof. Any clouds passing are further away than the reach of the Monastery's barrier. A good guess at how high it goes, but more research is needed. The young woman isn't confident enough to claim its circumference. Even with all the exploring, the only edge she's hit was when she first entered the barrier. Already, her plans of going _out_ have been delayed at how much more interesting _down_ is.

Speaking of, she'll have to eat on the go. _How annoying_.

**2**.

_There are more than expected._

The note burns up in her hand. Unfortunate Yuri even had to use the last-minute instruction spot they agreed on, but nice of him to warn her. Leonie watches the ashes flutter to the ground before she goes to the agreed meeting point.

Halfway through the catacomb tunnels, she pauses under the intense feeling of _déjà_ _vu_.

It goes away after the pause. On high alert, Leonie takes another step. The feeling spikes and leaves. The third time, it doesn't go away after a pause.

_She's done this before._

But it doesn't make sense unless-

-_they are expecting a fight._

They are expecting to_ lose_.

Leonie increases output to the diverter ward, going _Invisible_ as she moves with a burst of _Speed_, careful to not leave tracks. There is no one around, but her _Danger_ _Sense_ is chiming worryingly with every step closer to her goal. She is _Silent_, making her way to the entrance of the rafters. The underground room she sidles into is quite a pristine sight compared to what she's seen when looking for Yuri.

Speaking of, he against a pillar far down below, never once looking up. There are three others in masked beaks, one glancing towards the rafters every now and then.

Leonie swallows hard, a bead of fear dripping in her.

They _know_.

The déjà vu doesn't quite leave as she places a hand in the corner of the wall. It lessens but doesn't quite leave when she goes to spit.

Leonie isn't panicking as she carefully pulls out her favourite knife, keeping her still body turned to hide the slight glimmer made by movement under _Invisibility_. The feeling of having done this before leaves. Leonie closes her eyes at the realization.

She quickly cuts her finger and draws a line on the unhygienic, dusty wall. Even with the room being closer to the surface, the magic here is not strong. Her blood isn't immediately shredded, causing her to draw more in order to fuel the enchantment. With the combination of her own energy and the reluctant magic in the air, the charm spills out and follows along the walls much like the wards in her room. It follows the large rectangle, unseen and counting down. Fifteen minutes minimum, half an hour if she's lucky.

Leonie isn't feeling particularly _blessed_ at the moment. Even less so as she carefully crawls along the roof to a better position over the masked people. In fact, she feels rather haunted at the sight of a body on a stone slab, a stone throne even further behind it.

She knows that throne. She knows this place. Even if she hadn't been reincarnated, there are verses in Fódlan's bibles about the Throne of Knowledge beneath the Monastery. According to Seiros, this is where the Goddess grants her divine revelations.

The Holy Mausoleum.

That fear is turning to an inky sickness as Leonie eyes the slab coffins supposedly containing Crest Stones. The magic under her fingertips promises no one can teleport in or out, but this is a lot earlier than she'd thought she'd see this place. Purposefully, Leonie never went looking for it. It is a temptation, and a horror.

A perfect chance to destroy a Crest Stone.

Leonie keeps crawling to where the masked people don't look. She swings into the molding rafters above the body, careful to make sure nothing gives away her position. Below her is green hair, eyelids too large and sunken. Hands clasped and an ethereal glow emitting from a preservation spell.

A dead body, lying on the tomb of the Sword of the Creator.

_This can't be good._

Leonie reapplies the magic to the room.

Finally, the doors on the other end open, echoing through the stale air. Leonie turns _Eagle Eye_ on the proceedings. She doesn't feel anything as she recognizes the cardinal, Aelfric Dahlman. They've past each other all of two times. He seemed nice, like the other cardinals, but just another person she'd taken note of and not put stock in. Hopefully, with student access to more floors, she'll be able to tell who has more of an agenda than what she can catch outside the Monastery walls. It wouldn't do to be faced unprepared again.

He has the chalice. Carried by other masked people are the three people Yuri was fighting monsters with. The Nabatean isn't taking it well, "What have you done to them?"

While the cardinal monologues that they're just unconscious, that their blood is needed because each has a Crest of an apostle – and Yuri actually looks surprised at that – so only with the four will they be able to bring 'Sitri' back to life, Leonie is counting enemies and switching visions to make sure there isn't any more surprises. Going by the Church-certified clothing – because apparently no one wants to keep their class a secret in exchange for buffs – there are fifteen magic users, ten people in heavy armor, and six soldiers.

_It would be so easy to set the room on fire._

_So easy to turn them to dust._

But Leonie's not scared enough to feel backed into a corner. Isn't without hope for a last-stand suicide attempt or epic erasure. The implications of a mage squeezing out the hole she entered through and shooting an ice spike where she would have been without the déjà vu are terrifying. However, while everyone's attention is on that, Leonie climbs back onto the ceiling and begins towards where the Crest bearing humans are being set up. Switches plans for the complete opposite of what she would have done.

There's a burst of cold air, and then she looks down to see snow falling just above the rafters. _Cheaters_, Leonie thinks and continues crawling for where Yuri is being manhandled, _trying to mark my location_. The best part about fresh snow is that, unlike dust or dirt or _sand_, it is very easy to melt by turning up the thermostat.

Leonie scales down the walls head-first like an invisible monster, careful to stay in just enough light from the torches that her magic keeps at it. The fear kicks up the adrenaline, changing the splash-of-water feeling into something more focused. She is careful to breathe and direct the effects of anger into her hands. The air in the room reacts to the pulses of magic.

She doesn't look away from Yuri's bound hands, nor the swords pointed at his chest and throat. Her Danger Sense goes wild as the masked person who gazed too long at the rafters – a man by the voice – stops whatever the cardinal has planned, "Before we begin."

There's some shuffling in their direction.

"I know you are here, Phantom of the Monastery!" he shouts. Leonie can't help the small eye roll as organ music kicks up in her head. "Come down so we may speak! This does not have to be a fight!"

There is shuffling from all but Leonie and Yuri, the later who has frozen at his bindings being cut free. With most of the enemies' eyes on the rafters or their spokes person, it's easy to begin slipping around. Any drops from the water on her shoes are covered by the dropping waters from the rafters. It's a bit harder to redirect the displacement of air without oodles of around her, but the adrenaline is making it hard to feel the consequences of her actions.

In this state, Leonie thinks in single-minded goals. Assist the person she made a deal with, _check_. Get the tank or glass cannon unbound next.

_Check_.

In the dim light behind columns, Leonie takes a running start and slams into the armored knight. He sails across the room, his buddy pulling the sword away from the crashing noise and startled awake prisoner. He goes flying next, kicked so hard into a pillar that the stone has little cracks.

Leonie hears the physically strongest prisoner behind her, exclaiming, "What's going on?!" while the spokesperson enemy has finally stopped calling the rafters a coward and demands, "Kill the Phantom!"

_New goal_ – as Leonie's focus sharpens and blood pounds in her ears, dangerous and unknowingly smiling – _kill the enemies_.

Time slows a bit as Leonie begins moving too fast.

Ten minutes remaining until the anti-teleporter ward comes down.

Not a one can escape, or else the déjà vu may not be enough to save her.

**3**.

In a way, everything hurts. The adrenaline still pumps, but she was nicked enough times that the focus had to go to knitting skin together instead of soothing shock absorbers. There are at least three dented pillars, though one of them came from the tank-guy she cut free. He and Yuri were more focused on freeing their lady friends in the heat of the moment, while Leonie had been lost to the goal of _kill every last one of them_. She's not complaining, though. After weeks of pretending she doesn't imagine all the ways to kill her tablemates, roommates, the village, _the monastery_… this has left her empty in a way a good cry used to, if a bit more extreme in its effects. A headache the size of a dragon, nose and eye corners crusting with blood, and the horrible, _horrible_, knowledge that she's the one who committed most of this crime scene, but emotions drained so low that she's almost relieved.

She can't even muster up the strength to be afraid that this past hour could repeat itself without her ever knowing. There's barely even a sliver of anger that only one enemy remains, protected by the very people he used.

"Please," the cardinal who betrayed the Church cries to the magical ingredients for his necromantic wish, "I only want her back."

Leonie doesn't care. She walks over to the wall with the crack by its rafter beam. Digs her fingers into the grooves and climbs best she can without magic. The diverter ward still active, Yuri too focused on the traitor, no one notices her mostly visible self leaving.

She wants to sleep for a week. Her nerves are so shot, she doesn't even feel hungry. Every attempt to increase her magic output only makes the pounding in her head worse. If it is some sort of brain bleed, Leonie still has enough _faith_ in her healing magic to deal with that.

She's just finished pulling herself through the crack when she hears a faint, "Who _was_ that?"

Her lips twitch into a faint, real smile as call-me-Yuri says an honest, almost confused, "I don't know."

**4**.

There's a constant bell ringing that must have started sometime when the fighting happened. Leonie doesn't care as she shuffles her wet – from jumping into a lake to clean off the blood – self into her dorm room. Unfortunately, her roommates seem to care a lot.

"Where have you been?!" Lysithea shrieks from her top bunk. Leonie's already stripping down, the Eagle teens politely adverting their eyes. "We have been in lockdown for half an hour!"

"Was dozing in a tree," Leonie replies flatly. They all wince at how tired she sounds. "Bell startled me up and I rolled into a pond. Wasn't sure what it meant so I stuck around to dry a bit and see if anything was happening."

"It means prisoners have escaped," Aurora explains, uncomfortably softer than her usual self. She shrugs a bit at the look Leonie throws. "We were told to return to our rooms before it even started. It must be very serious."

"Yah, well," Leonie slumps into her bed, struggling to pull the blankets up, "I trust you all to wake me up if we need to do something. I over did it with today's exercise so I just… I need to…"

**5**.

Leonie sleeps in fits. Is woken up by Bernadetta at one point to eat, and then immediately crashes again. They're not allowed out until noon the next day.

Leonie's just glad there _is_ a next day. She's very curious how many times_ Those Who Slither in the Dark _can rewind, especially since they went to so much trouble to stack the odds in their favour. From the bits she remembers hearing, they seem to think the Phantom is a _he_. The fact they didn't automatically connect anything to her is a reassurance she didn't know she needed.

The young woman details the workout she 'had' yesterday, making them more likely to believe she overexerted herself rather than suspect she had anything to do with the breakout. Aurora and Lysithea bring back lunch before Aurora goes off to reconvene with her friends. Late in the afternoon, Leonie assures the teens that she's not going to overexert herself, "I just want some air."

Lysithea responds with, "We'll see you at dinner, then," to which Bernadetta doesn't protest.

Leonie makes sure to smile with how proud she really feels.

**6**.

The cafeteria will be open for dinner in ten minutes, and Leonie is both hungry and not. She sits on the stone wall overlooking the Monastery's docks and fishing area, the closed doors of the dining hall a ways behind her. The Monastery has a lot of reflective surfaces, more than she's used to, and Leonie's resolved not to look at anymore if she does not have to. Takes a break to watch the sunset, something she hasn't done in years thanks to the fear that another monster bird will try to swoop down and eat her.

The heart of the Monastery is safe from monsters. At least, that's what people believe. Just like they believe it never rains on Monastery grounds. Leonie watches the dark clouds rolling in against the orange sky and wonders once again why it rains the day Jeralt dies.

She killed a lot of people yesterday, and the world keeps moving. _Why_, though? Leonie enjoys feeling like her ninety-nine problems aren't the weight of the world, and she knows to appreciate the continuous turning around the sun, but she cannot comprehend why so many died and there was no backtrack. There is something she's missing, and it's bothering her now that her emotional capacity needs something to fill the void left behind by the stress relief.

Leonie kind-of wishes she had healthier thoughts to fill it with.

She hears him walking up, likely before he spots her. Leonie tenses her fingers against the stone, ready to stick if necessary, pushing through the hollow aching of overuse. She thinks about how he's one of the few students so far to always make as minimal noise as possible. _Practice_, Leonie thinks, watching a bird-ish shaped cloud and remembering her own attempts to silently jump around trees.

Her vision gets disturbed and she closes her eyes as the hands gently press. She can't help the real, nostalgic smile as he sings, "Guess who."

Like high-fives and fist bumps, it's not something people in Fódlan do. "Hey, Claude." She leans back, a bit surprised his hands drop to her shoulders and her head hits his chest. They share grins, "What's up?"

"Oh, you know," he lets go after making sure she won't fall, and then sits beside her. Not turned towards the dinning hall like she thought but facing the pond and Monastery walls. Leonie doesn't feel bad about her lack of trust towards others, though it bites a bit that her paranoia is switching from the big-bad to one of the few people she needs to rely on. "Checking in on everyone like a responsible leader. Didn't see you at lunch, and Lysithea wanted me to make sure you weren't exerting yourself."

Now the nostalgia's passed, her smile looks the same but she doesn't feel it. "As much as I don't like taking a day off, I do enjoy sleeping in once in a while."

"Yah, about that," she tilts her head, watching the sunset but noticing his gaze strangely lingers on her hand, "Lysithea mentioned you were exercising yesterday, but what did you do that tired you out so much?"

Leonie doesn't sigh and repeats what she told her roommates. Claude is oddly still before chuckling and turning to the sunset, "That almost sounds like Hilda's exercise regimen back in Goneril. What made you decide to try it?"

"No wonder she's so strong," slips out as Leonie pulls up an answer. "With the sword tournament over, I thought I'd do something to make up for lack of rushing about." Makes sure she sounds bitter for the next part, "Just my luck I'm outside the gate when the alarms sound."

"And you didn't think about returning?"

"I didn't know what the bell was for. For all I knew, there was some big-wig or parade or something and I would have interrupted a very delicate meeting."

Claude laughs and appears to take the answer. "Well, just know I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks," she gently elbows his arm. "I'm glad you're okay too."

She leans back to watch a cloud part around the barrier, all the while a rush of Claude's Crest swirls around her. Leonie finally looks over and meets his staring, "What?"

Whatever he wants to say, he hides behind a cheeky grin and a wave upwards, "Did you know it can snow on Monastery grounds?"

"What?" she didn't, eyes widening, "really?"

"It's only done it twice from what I've heard, but both times people started going crazy and calling it the end of times."

Leonie can't help the laugh. "Of course they would. It's not like Serios wrote about the Goddess taming the colds or anything."

Since she's looking, she catches the odd look on Claude's face. Leonie cannot decipher it, but he defaults back to his harmless look with a crafty grin, voice pitched a bit lower to only be heard by them, "Why do you say it like that? Wasn't that one of the visions the Goddess blessed upon Serios?"

She knows what he's hinting at but can't give him the satisfaction of admitting the whole religion is a charade. It's the victors who mold history, after all, and they make sure there's no proof of their wrongdoings. "She still had to write it for it to be passed down."

Claude leans back, not looking deterred and dropping the topic as he spins back towards the doors, "That she did. You ready for dinner? I can smell it from here."

"Yes, please," Leonie groans, stretching and wincing as so many things crack. Claude offers a hand to pull her up. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

**7**.

As Friday rolls around, Leonie spends her morning walking instead of running. Even with magical healing back at it, everything is annoyingly sore. While she's lost any weight she gained over the past weeks, it's even more unfortunate to realize her body must have gone into starvation mode during the massacre. Thankfully her stomach has repaired any damage and allows for full meals, though she can only eat so much at a time. It will be at least another couple of days to return to normal running around the Monastery, at least a week before she can match Raphael again without the aid of magic.

It would be easy to blame Those Who Slither in the Dark for her situation, but Leonie acknowledges her own fault in it as well. Her on-the-fly plan was muddled by fear and likely wasted a lot of magic. She settled on a default brute force approach because it seemed as though there was no way to take them out silently.

In fact, the tiny part of her that always wondered about how she'd pass Authority testing is now a real concern. She wants to be a solo mercenary, has trained for it, but not cracking under pressure is an essential for all situations. Even the worst bandit encampment she's torn through didn't leave her grasping at straws.

Maybe it's because she's built them up as the Big Bad. Maybe she's become too reliant on the Monastery's constant magic. Whatever it is, she needs to make sure this is an extreme her body can handle. More training in her future. _Joy_.

"Ah, pardon me," comes a voice. An elderly man's voice. _A fake person's voice_.

Leonie turns and jogs over when the Librarian beckons her. The anger and fear jolt through her tired body, warming her as adrenaline chills, "Good morning, sir."

"Hello, child," he says, hunching over his cane. "You are… Leonie, correct? The one with the best time on the climbing wall?"

"Yes, sir."

_-don't rip out his Crest Stone, don't rip out his Crest Stone, don't-_

"Would you be able to assist me?" he turns, Leonie makes sure she can always see him as she follows the motion. "I accidently scared the young cat and they appear unable to get down."

"Oh," Leonie feels her eyes widen a bit as a familiar calico spares her a glance from atop the high stone wall. Its real focus is hissing at the Librarian. "Well, I can get up there. I'm just not sure how to get down…" At least, not without giving away a few secrets.

_This cannot be a coincidence._

_-don't rip out his Crest Stone, don't rip out his Crest Stone-_

He looks vaguely disappointed as he turns, "Hm… well. Pardon me."

Leonie blinks a few times, smiling and waving at the tall, ripped older teen who just happened to be walking by. He comes over at the Librarian's beckoning, and Leonie wonders if he realizes just how much danger they're all in.

"Morning," Leonie greets. "We're trying to get the cat off the wall. Would you be able to catch me if I jumped off with it?"

Dedue looks up and nods slowly, voice deeper than she expected, "I believe I can catch you. Will you need assistance getting up?"

Leonie feels her mouth open a little in surprise, smile still in place, "If you won't mind giving me a boost, I'd appreciate it. But I can make it up."

He smiles slightly, nodding and linking his fingers, "I can handle it."

"Thank you!" and for the first time since this situation began, she puts the Librarian out of her gaze. It makes her skin itch, but between the two of them she's certain they can hold off the man while he's in this form. It takes moments to get her up beside the cat and, when she tries to convince it to come to her, the calico gives her an unimpressed look. Leonie mutters, "Hard way it is."

She snags the cat, who proceeds to try scratching her up with its trashing. Leonie hisses a bit and gets into position, one arm balancing her while her body hangs off in a curl.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes. I will catch you."

Not wanting to risk an upped _Durability_, she certainly hopes so. Worst she gets if he misses is a stinging tailbone and pissed-off armful of fur. Leonie drops.

"Oomph," she grunts at the landing, flashing the teen a smile. "Nice catch."

"Thank you," he replies cordially. As soon as she's set down, the Librarian makes a move to reach for the cat.

Leonie lets the animal bolt off her, exaggerating a wince as it scratches up her arm.

"Sorry, sir," Leonie frowns like a pout. "Do you think it will be alright?"

The Librarian's quick-second scary face smooths into a polite smile. "I am sure it will, child. Cats around here are very hardy creatures. Thank you both for your assistance." Then he's off, walking at a faster pace than his shuffle should allow.

"Thanks again for the catch," Leonie shines a winning smile at the prince's retainer. "I'm Leonie, by the way."

"Dedue," he gives the Kingdom's greeting bow. "As I said, I could handle it."

"Still, I appreciate the assistance." She hadn't even needed to try _Lightweight_. "Ah, I've got to meet someone for breakfast. Are you heading that way?"

"Apologies, I am not."

"No worries, thought I'd ask," Leonie starts walking backwards, waving. "Nice meeting you! Don't be a stranger!"

Dedue nods and turns to go the other way. Leonie lets out a breath and stretches out her protesting muscles. Her mind tracks back to her encounter with the enemies.

There's something she's missing, and Leonie doesn't appreciate the feeling of it.

**8**.

"You're a natural with a lance, Bernadetta," Leonie says, tapping the teen's elbow a bit higher. At a nod, the purplette swings and retreats again. "Born talent."

"Th-thank you," the deceptively tiny teen blushes. Leonie thinks the strength must come from her Crest and a proper care routine, because Bernadetta has become much stronger than her physical looks imply.

A bit away, Lysithea growls to herself and slashes with the sword in her hand. She's careful where she places her feet on the grassy area between the future Deer and Eagle dorms, not confident on such a soft surface. She can't practice on stone forever. Leonie leaves Bernadetta to continue her simple repetition, nabbing the discarded training sword to go over patterns with the white-haired teen. "Do you feel ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Lysithea bares her teeth and shuffles into the shady area with Leonie. Lysithea's sword in her right hand, so Leonie settles hers in her left. They bow, never taking their eyes off each other, and in one smooth, slow motion, lift their swords in the same attack pattern. Then the next, and the next.

When the odd dance ends, Leonie dropping her sword from where it rests against Lysithea's to flash a smile, "Great work! Do you want to go again, or try another set?"

"Again, but faster."

Leonie rolls her shoulders, smile dropping a bit at how serious Lysithea appears, "If you're sure…?"

"I am."

_Alright then_, Leonie goes back into position. The first attack is fine, but with the slight added speed Lysithea overextends and slides a bit on the grass. They have to halt a step before the end, too close to each other.

"You are getting better," Leonie tells her honestly as they go back for another try. "I think you have a natural talent with the sword. The problem's the other elements in a practical application," the physics behind it. "Take it from someone who knows, nature is a cruel mistress."

That draws a smile from the frustrated teen. They begin again, this time ending a foot too far part on the last step. Leonie calls it after the fourth attempt to get Bernadetta started on the next set of repetitions. They're fixing her form when the lesson is broken by a, "Pardon me!"

Bernadetta takes one look over and screams, dropping the lance and bolting behind Leonie with a "Nononono-"

"Hi," Leonie waves at the obviously shocked blond and his stoic companion. Lysithea slides up next to the orange haired young woman in a show of support, sword hanging loose and at ready in the hand on her hip. "How can we help you?"

There's a slight pause before Lysithea jams an elbow in Leonie at the realization. The small teen puts a fist over her chest, bowing, "Your Highness."

"Whoops, sorry," Leonie apologizes and copies the pose.

That seems to snap Dimitri out of it, raising his hands in a gesture of _no, don't_, "It is alright. And please, call me Dimitri. We are all students here, after all."

"Alright," Leonie straightens and shrugs, hissing when Lysithea stomps on her foot. "And Dedue, it's nice seeing you again."

"Likewise," is the bowed reply.

"I'm Leonie," she waves a few fingers at the surprisingly open prince's face. "This is Lysithea von Ordelia, and behind me is Bernadetta von Varley." With that done, she turns her head to softly convey, "See? I told you that you didn't need to introduce yourself."

Bernadetta sobs dryly, "You remembered."

"Of course," with that finished, she smiles again at the males. "How can we help you, gentlemen?"

"Oh," Dimitri _blushes_. Leonie's taken aback at how he appears embarrassed. This is a lot different from what she was expecting. "Well, I- we happened to see you practising. I was hoping you wouldn't mind if we joined in."

"Not at all," Leonie looks between the two. "I can run up to our room and get some training weapons if you don't have any."

"There is no need for the trouble."

She can't help the chuckle, Lysithea shooting her a long-suffering look, "It's no trouble. So, what'll it be? Swords, lances, axes, or fists?"

Dedue answers while Dimitri tries to find the words, "If you have any training gauntlets, I would appreciate you lending them to me."

"Not a problem. Just, try not to break them. Please. Same goes to you."

"Of course," Dimitri snaps out of whatever daze he's in. "A lance, if you have any."

"Sure thing! I'll be back in a moment."

Bernadetta latches on, arms and legs wrapping tight, like a barnacle, "_Don't leave me!"_

"You can always come with. Lysithea, is there anything you need to come up for?"

The white-haired teen eyes the future Blue Lions and gives a sharp, "No," refusing the out if she's uncomfortable alone with them.

"Alright," Leonie flashes a smile to the guys, readjusts Bernadetta to a better position, and gets to have a moment of concern to herself on the way. Why the _Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus _even wants to talk with them is a mystery to her. She certainly doesn't remember a conversation between him and the real Leonie. He must have better things to do than go over the basics. So… _why?_

Maybe it's time to admit she accidently did something to cause a butterfly effect that's throwing out the main plot before it can even begin.

…_Nah_. Leonie's not that lucky. He'll probably forget all about her once he's the leader of the Blue Lions.

**9**.

"Are you ready?" Leonie asks, sword in her right hand.

Dimitri nods from the few feet between them, lance in position, "Yes."

"Everyone watching?" Leonie waits for Lysithea and Bernadetta's confirmation. Dedue confirms as well, even though he doesn't need to see this. "Alright, begin."

They show the disarming at a moderate pace, meaning Leonie's sword drops after a few seconds instead of flying away after her go. They do it a few more times, Lysithea asking questions about how to avoid it while Bernadetta crouches on the ground, hands over her head in a small, I-can-see-you-but-you-can't-meet-my-eyes sort of way. She watches just as closely, and then squeaks a 'thank you' when Dedue hands over her lance.

"Hey, Lysithea, do you want to try disarming me when I have an axe?"

The teen's mouth opens and then closes with a _clack_. Leonie follows her gaze, realizing they must have been out here for a while as Seteth marches up with several people under the yellowing sky. "Maybe later."

Bernadetta yelps and jumps behind Leonie. The orange haired young woman smiles tiredly at Dedue and Dimitri before waving, "Good afternoon, Seteth!"

"Leonie," he greets cordially, but with a face that's seen enough paperwork to automatically distrust anyone who calls him out. "How are you?"

She wonders if anyone else notices how Dimitri is looking a little too intently at the white-haired beauty dressed in perfect curved and ruffled red. "I'm alright. We're making sure to train out of the way of others."

He hums a sigh, "I can see that." A short nod to the future Blue Lions and Golden Deer. "Your Highness, Dedue, Lysithea… Bernadetta."

In order, the replies are a nod, bow, wave, and squeak from the respective students. He moves to show the few men and teen the temporary dorms for future Black/Red Eagle students when the youngest man stops, eyes narrowing. Leonie can't help but to tense and move between his lion stare and the target. That doesn't seem to deter him, cool voice asking, "Bernadetta von Varley, what _are_ you doing?"

Bernadetta screams like she's dying and runs for the doors, "NO! I'M GOING TO DIE! LEAVE ME DEATH! I DON'T WANT TO GO!"

The door to the dormitories slams shut behind her. Leonie is certain if she wasn't restraining herself from the magic in the air, something would be on fire. She matches the glare from the young man, struggling to keep a nasty look from her face while she smiles benignly, "Lysithea? Do you want to help Bernadetta, or deal with him?"

One-hundred forty-eight centimetres of rage steps up beside Leonie, "I've got him. You go calm Berns down."

**10**.

Leonie rolls out of bed on Saturday, and then freezes at the terrible, awful feeling of déjà vu. It comes as fast as it goes, but she knows what she felt. It keeps appearing as she does exercises, and then really hits when she grabs the doorknob.

There's a drip of fear running through her. Until she knows why this is happening, all she can do it play along. She may never know why, and that's almost the thought that breaks her stride. Never knowing. Besides the influx of future Black/Red Eagle nobles arriving the night before, Leonie cannot imagine what would have caused her to feel this.

Edelgard's uncle is here. Maybe that's a clue.

Or maybe she's just grasping at straws. Without an idea of _who, what, when, where_, and _why_, it's useless to dwell. Leonie just needs to keep up with the feeling. After all she did in the Holy Tomb, now is not the time to reveal the ability of not making the same choices twice.

It's even a clear skied, lovely day. What do they want to change?

* * *

**A/N: In following through on her part of the deal, Leonie overworks herself and needs some rest and recovery. Also, in all the excitement, no one has realized the Chalice of Beginnings is now, in fact, just a fancy gold cup. **

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to ShadowWolf223, TheParadoxicalOxymoron, xenocanaan, guisniperman, JoshuaFangurl, northernlion196, Guest, HersheyBby, BlueBunnyims,** **Guest number 720, and IReadNoNonsense for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**If anyone's worried, none of Yuri's people died.**

**If anyone's curious, the implied time travel ability by Those Who Slither in the Dark for this story comes from the day of Jeralt's death, specifically Thales' dropping in and mini speech. Leonie's just not sure how or who does it for them.**

**Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone is well and has a great day! Please take care **


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

**1**.

Leonie drops two trays on the table, replying to Claude's cheeky greeting with a muffled, "Good morning," around the apple in her mouth.

"How'd you manage to get breakfast for Bernadetta and Lysithea?" Claude wonders, eyeing the obvious breaking of _One Tray Per Person_ rule. The warming and cooling wards get weird if the trays are stacked wrong.

Leonie swallows, trying to lessen the déjà vu without it outright disappearing, "Melissa likes me."

He cuts a look to the kitchen staff slowly preparing for the morning rush. It's not a long look, his eyes going back to his tablemate. "Is that all you're eating?"

Leonie looks down. Thinks about it, "I'll eat more with the girls. This way I don't get a talking to for keeping the trays in plain sight."

"Stay here," Claude says lackadaisically, but Leonie jolts because the déjà vu cuts out completely. "If anyone gives you trouble, just let them know you won't be supplying the good stuff anymore. That is why the staff here likes you… Am I close?"

"On the money," Leonie stares a him a bit more before shaking her head and smiling. Odd, but at least she can relax now. "I give most to the orphanage in the lower village, but the lands here are so bountiful I can get a lot with little effort. Good practice for when we have to sign up for jobs."

"With what you bring in, I don't think anyone else will get the hunting job." He leans his elbows on the table, playing with his fork. "How is Bernadetta? Lysithea told us about your unfortunate run-in with Hubert."

"Better now," Leonie plays with her own half-eaten apple, eyes drifting to the sky as she purses her lips. It looks like it's raining, but the water falls down the boundary and not on Monastery lands. "Dorothea's going to be chatting with the new arrivals, so I'm hoping to play up how they'll be distracted to encourage Bern to eat dinner with us. I don't blame her for hiding, but I was hoping she'd have it easier with more housemates to rely on."

"Hubert was definitely not a good one to start with," Claude begins stirring his warm oatmeal, watching her closely. "Maybe we can meet a few today. Bernie- ugh, Bernadetta- she is okay with me, right?"

"She likes you," Leonie says after a bite. "It's still harder for her with males, but it's all good since you've been holding back for her."

Claude chokes a bit on his own bite. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Leonie smiles, tone bland. "So you haven't been making people cry with a bit of cold logic and biting remarks at lunch this past week? My mistake. Must have been another Claude."

"Well, there are two other Claude's signed up for our year," he says, smiling something sharp. "It's an honest mistake."

She levels him a look, smile growing wider, "Of course. Still, thank you for being kind and patient with Bernadetta. I am honestly worried about how school starting may undo her progress."

"I wouldn't worry about that," he stretches out, arms going behind his head as he kicks her under the table. Leonie rolls her eyes. "She's a lot stronger than you give her credit for."

"I know she is," Leonie chews another bite. Swallows and meets his eyes. "Do you think we can hold off on officially meeting the princess and her retainer? Like, maybe have them last? Or better to get it over with?"

Claude's laugh is filled with a bitterness she can't place. He goes back to toying with his food, "Most people would be jumping to meet them."

"I know you'll need to be introduced even-"

"Why do you say that?"

Leonie blinks at the interruption, watching as Claude's friendly yet cold stare cracks under her attention, "Claude… at this point you're inheriting the roundtable's only position that must directly deal with the Empire and Kingdom leaders. Wait, have you met Dimitri yet?"

He huffs, "Are you on first-name basis with His Royal Highness?"

"Yes?" Leonie freezes as Claude jerks upright, arms falling to either side of his bowl as his Crest flares. "He said to use it, but I'm not good at this whole royal thing so maybe I shouldn't? …Did Lysithea not tell you? We met and trained a bit with him and Dedue before the whole Hubert mess."

"No," Claude says with an eerie calm around him, body posture turning deceptively relaxed, "She didn't. What was he like?"

"Nice, I guess?" Leonie shrugs tucks the core away to feed the wildlife later. Pulls out an orange to throw Claude off whatever mood he's in. "We all shared training tips. Bernadetta trusts Dedue more than him, so Dimitri and I ended up showing disarming tactics since she wouldn't take any of his advice."

Claude's eyes leave the orange peels, real amusement coming and going in the green. The feeling of his Crest disappears, leaving an almost chill behind. "I guess we should say hi if we see them around. And the perfect chance to introduce Bernadetta to everyone would be at the course today."

"Ugh," Leonie tosses up her hands. "You know I'm helping Flayn today."

"Bring her along. The more the merrier."

Leonie goes to protest that she will be the one taking heat from Seteth for it, but there's a tap on her shoulder accompanied by, "Excuse me, but are you Leonie Pinelli?"

Claude's face reasserts to its friendly look as she turns. Deep bags under blue eyes stare her down. Leonie nods, uncertain, "Yes, that's me."

"Good," the green haired teen sighs. "I wish to request your services as a support item for the obstacle course health check substitution."

Leonie does a slow blink as she processes the very well-timed request. As much as she'd like to glare at Claude, an answer needs to be given, "Sure. Meet me on the field at nine."

"Excellent," he yawns. "My name is Linhardt. If I am not there, the other Red Eagles can find me."

The only reason Leonie doesn't snap is because the future academically high-ranked Linhardt calls them Red Eagles. Not even a pause in his words. It must be getting popular.

Speaking of, Leonie gives in and glares at her future house leader. Claude holds up his hands in surrender, light back in his eyes as he laughs, "I didn't know that was coming."

"Sure," Leonie drawls, stuffing her peels away. She goes to stand, but he waves her back down.

"I'm almost done. I'll help you take the trays."

Her eyes narrow, "Really?"

"Hey, I'm being honest here. No other motives but doing a nice deed."

Leonie sighs and settles back. "I'll see about getting Flayn down to watch."

Claude coughs, trying not to choke as his shoulders shake with laughter. "I was joking, but now I'm curious. How mad do you think Seteth will be?"

Leonie rolls her eyes. "Probably pretty upset, but whatever. She could do with some more human interaction."

**2**.

"Hello Leonie- oh! And Claude! How wonderful it is to see you again!"

"Hey, Flayn," he waves, strolling into the music room behind Leonie. Heir Riegan whistles as he looks around, "Nice place you've got here. How old are some of these?"

The greenette giggles, "Older than the students. Now, are you here to tune them with us?"

"Actually," Leonie twists her smile into a sorry one, folding in slightly, "we're here to ask if you want to come watch the obstacle course. I was asked this morning to be a support item again, and I don't have to because we already had plans to do this, but I thought-"

"Yes!" Flayn exclaims, placing her saxophone back in it's preservation stand. "I would love to come! We have already covered everything here." She laughs a bit, "Well, we barely even tune nowadays. And I have heard so many things about this course. Oh, I am so very much looking forward to seeing you participate!"

Leonie's smile grows, though Claude interrupts by wondering, "Why didn't you go last week?"

"Seteth requested I do not encourage this behaviour," Flayn smiles secretly, smoothing one bundle of curls, "and I told him I would not do so last week. However, seeing as this is a new week, his request is over and I can enjoy cheering on my student."

Claude shifts away his shock, Leonie snorting and explaining as she helps Flayn pack away, "I'm the student. Maybe I can get Linhardt to agree to join. He's who I'm helping out. I'll probably have to leave you and Claude with the others as soon as we make it to the field, Linhardt made it sound like he loses track of time often."

"Claude and I will be fine," Flayn assures. "I am looking forward to meeting others. Will the person you helped last week be there?"

"Bernadetta, yah, she will." Leonie brushes off her hands and makes an _alright_ motion with an arm, "Thanks for coming, Flayn. And I'm really sorry for springing this on you."

"It is no problem," the Nabatean dazzles them both with her smile and her Crest's feeling of sunlight. "Truthfully, I have been wanting to do this for a while."

**3**.

"Excuse me."

Leonie turns from her search to the person right behind her. _It's odd_, she thinks, absolutely nothing about her appearance changing in the face of the person she's most conflicted about, _that even in heels, I'm still taller than her_. "How can I help you?"

The princess does nothing to hide her presence. In fact, her Crest – _Crests_, even though it only feels like one – strands are probably the strongest of the students. Her arm crosses her stomach and she does a small Empire bow as befitting her station, "I wish to apologize for Hubert's actions yesterday."

Leonie hums, rocking back on her heels to do a quick sweep. Hubert is at the start line with other future students, coiled to spring and watching them like a snake. Leonie folds her hands behind her back, smiling a bit more at the princess, "While I appreciate the thought, shouldn't _Hubert_ be apologizing for Hubert?"

"It is noble etiquette," Linhardt says, practically sliding out of nowhere from between future students to stand off to the side of their discussion. "You apologize for those under you, implying you will be dealing with the punishment for their misbehaviour. Hello Edelgard."

"Linhardt," she greets warily.

"And I'm Leonie," she shrugs and jazz hands at their attention. "Commoner, so thanks for explaining that. I really hope the Officer's Academy has etiquette classes outside the club, or all this is going to fly over my head."

Edelgard forces a smile, "I am sure it will get easier over time."

"But before that," Linhardt plucks at Leonie's pristine white shirt, "we need to go sign in with Seteth."

The princess narrows her eyes, "Is this why you've been hiding from him?"

"Yes. That, and I wished to have a nap while I waited."

She huffs an aggravated breath, "Honestly, Linhardt, you can sleep after you have obtained your spot at the Academy. What would you have done if you had missed this?"

"Go next week." He tugs Leonie towards Seteth. "We can talk later. See you after this, Your Highness."

The few people pretending not to eavesdrop immediately turn and vie for Edelgard's attention. Leonie manages to slip a parting wave through the crowd before walking in step with the future Eagle, "So, how do you want to do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I carried a person through the course last time," Leonie eyes the long cloaks and robes he has layered on himself. She still aches, physically and in her magic stores, but it there is definitely enough on her to get him through around Bernadetta's time. However, "She was much smaller than you, but I can carry you too if need be." It would give her a reason to not overdo herself.

"I was expecting you to carry me throughout the whole course," he explains with a yawn.

"As long as you hold on," she gives a hard look, "which means staying awake. Are you narcoleptic?"

He frowns, eyebrows pinching, "What does that mean?"

"To really oversimplify, narcolepsy is having uncontrollable periods of falling asleep when you are supposed to be awake. Should I be worried you'll fall asleep halfway up the climbing wall, or will you awake enough to hold on the whole time?"

Linhardt stops to look at her for a long moment, an open and vulnerable expression on his young face, "Is that truly a thing?"

And Leonie, who knows how important explanations can be to the scientific minded, reaches up to give his shoulder a firm pat, "I know mental health isn't an open topic in Fódlan but yes, it is real. We can discuss it later, if you'd like. See if the symptoms sound familiar?"

He clears his throat, "Yes, I would like that. Thank you, Ms. Pinelli."

Leonie makes a face, this time tugging him to get moving towards Seteth, "Please just call me Leonie."

"Ah, then I see no reason why you should not call me Linhardt."

**4**.

Leonie stumbles as a sharp puff flicks against her skin, followed by a softer alert press. The latter puff isn't common, but she's used to the feeling of her roommates letting others in. She feels it every time Dorothea eats with them.

It's the sharp one that worries her, that she can't check up on in the middle of the obstacle course. It means that someone has just broken in and entered her room.

"Are you alright?" Linhardt asks next to her ear.

Leonie adjusts her grip on his legs, shooting a grin, "Fine, just a misstep."

And it's the only one as she puts it out of her mind. Leonie has a life to live, she'll go to the room when the day's ending. If it's that much of a problem, the day will begin again and she'll feel it. Besides, it's not like the intruders can take anything. Anything in the room can only leave via the owner's hands.

They pass the finish line far past the others, even beating out the princess who tried her best to keep up. Seteth glares daggers at Leonie and – if Linhardt was awake enough to pick up on it – dares them with his eyes to feel his passive aggressive wrath by going over to Flayn.

Leonie does, helping Linhardt along just until the greenette runs up to gush. Leonie startles a little, but squeezes the Nabatean's hands back from where they're clasped together.

"Linhardt," is the whine that interrupts the praises. "Come on, man, you said you were going to do the course."

"And I did," Linhardt says with all the smugness he can muster. "Leonie and, er, Flayn, was it?"

"Yes," Flayn does a little curtsy. "And you are Linhardt."

"This is Caspar von Bergliez."

"Nice to meet you," Leonie frees a hand to wave.

"Um, yah. You two too." Caspar blinks between them, seemingly unaware of Claude, Bernadetta, and Lysithea looming behind him. "Wait, you're the one with the record for the course."

"That's our Leonie," Claude says, lackadaisical grin turning smug when the light blue haired teen jumps. "Though, officially, Lysithea is the one who's finished fastest. This is her, by the way. I'm Claude von Riegan, and I'm guessing you already know Bernadetta."

Caspar gapes at the mop of purple hair for a moment, meanwhile Flayn swings her and Leonie's joined hand. Finally, he asks, "Bernadetta, is that really you?"

"H-hi Caspar…"

"A pleasure to see you as well," Linhardt nods, practically slumped on Leonie. Bernadetta squeaks. It's about then the air goes a few notches colder and Leonie turns, deftly tucking Flayn behind her and letting Linhardt blink away his dozing at the shoulder switch.

"Hi there," Leonie grins as though nothing is wrong. As though Bernadetta isn't making herself as small as possible behind Claude and Lysithea. As though she doesn't feel surrounded. Waves a free hand with a chuckle, "I feel like we need a rollcall. I'm Leonie. Nice to meet you all."

"Hello," bows the orange haired teen with a friendly face. Everyone – even the gloom cloud on the other side of the princess – has a face that makes hearts melt. Leonie thinks this is very unfair and is only partially glad she gets time to get used to them without Dorothea blinding her. "My name is Ferdinand von Aegir, heir of House Aegir."

"Hubert von Vestra," is practically spat at them.

"And I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, the next Emperor of the Adrestian Empire," there's a look of barely held back frowning aimed at them all, "a pleasure."

"Claude von Riegan," said teen puts his hands behind his head, looking positively relaxed. With her _Danger Sense_ pinging, Leonie doesn't feel safe enough to full look and fully see what he holds in and around his eyes, "heir to House Riegan. Glad to make your acquaintance."

Edelgard smiles with polite surprise, "And to you."

"Lysithea von Ordelia," comes the disgusted voice of one tired of all the politicking. "Everyone here knows Bernadetta, so _yes_ you can keep hiding."

There's a soft, "_Thank you_."

"Linhardt von Hevring," he says between a yawn.

"Again, hi, I'm Caspar von Bergliez-"

Flayn pops out from behind Leonie to smile and greet the newcomers, "And I'm-"

"_Flayn!_"

The Nabatean sighs and shouts back, "Coming, brother!" Unlaces their hand to do a quick Empire bow. "It was wonderful meeting you all!"

Before the silence can settle, Leonie raises her hands in a defenceless gesture, "Anyone want to go for another breakfast? I'm starving."

**5**.

"The food is very not like that of Brigid," Petra says from across the table.

Leonie hums, swallowing her chuck of meat, "If you would like, I can search for some plants or animals and we can make a meal together."

Dark magenta eyes widen, excited, "I would like that very much."

Claude leans over, grinning at them, "Can I join for that?"

"Yes, yes," Petra clasps her hands together, enthusiasm really making her young age stand out, "We shall make a feast! Food in Brigid is no good enjoyed alone."

"Sounds good to me!" Leonie beams, inwardly groaning at the thought of cooking. "Bernadetta? Lysithea? You want in?"

"S-sure..."

"Yah, I'll be there."

"I'll make sure to hunt lots then," Leonie flips open her bag to quickly grab some scrap paper and a pen. "Petra? What should I look for?"

While she's taking notes, Leonie overhears Edelgard comment, "You all seem very close."

Leonie has done a good job deflecting most of the probing sentences the three new Eagle nobles have thrown at Claude, especially with how he very discreetly always seems to end up closer to Petra, Bernadetta, or Lysithea. The future Golden Deer made sure to flank him when sitting, guided by Leonie to sit with the lone future Eagle in the dining hall. Bernadetta, of course, opted for the open spot next to Leonie, even though it meant facing a stranger.

Leonie's proud of her.

"I wouldn't know about _very_ close," Claude laughs it off, leaning back with arms crossing behind his head, "but you ride in a carriage with someone enough times, you get to know each other."

"Fascinating," Edelgard's sharp look turns to the giggles at how much Petra and Ferdinand insist they stock up on. "Leonie, you said you are a commoner, correct?"

"That's right," she twirls the pen between her fingers, smile easy as she imagines it going through an eye socket. "Small town girl, living in a lonely world. I wanted to see what else was out there, so I scraped up enough to pay tuition and here I am."

"Who is your sponsor?"

At that, Leonie laughs. "You know commoners just need a sponsor to cut the costs, right? They aren't needed to get admission into the classes. When I say I scraped everything, I mean it. Saved every coin I could get my hands on."

Hubert's lips curl into a mocking smile, "Surely you don't expect to get into the dedicated class. There has never been a commoner in there without a recommendation before."

While Leonie has a split-second thought about jabbing a fork into his hand, Claude gives a show of support by tapping her foot under the table. She does not look over, just keeps smiling serenely, "Who doesn't want to be apart of that class? Shoot for the moon, land amongst the stars and all that."

Hubert frowns, Edelagard tilts her head, and Ferdinand asks, "What do you mean?"

Leonie gives the full saying, Petra exclaiming that she likes it.

"I do too," Claude supports it, arms folding on the table. "That one of the ones you taught the kids at your village?"

"Well, I did have to learn the night sky in case I ever got lost."

That dissolves into a conversation with Petra, comparing names and stories for constellations, promising to do star gazing together one night. Leonie is feeling vaguely impressed, resolving to spend time with the more impressionable, younger princess when she can. If she can get another language out of it, even better.

**6**.

After dropping Lysithea and Bernadetta back in their room – after doing the quickest and most thorough sweep she can unnoticed, finding nothing out of the ordinary – Leonie's a bit surprised when Claude follows her towards the stables.

"I know we see each other everyday," she admits, although not the completely correct reason, "but I do miss sharing a room with Hilda and Marianne. Though I'm sure Penelope and Lauza are better roommates for Hilda; more people to trade gossip with."

"I'm sure you were a fine roommate," his tone says he's laughing at her, even if he's doing that innocent façade. "Poor Marianne is probably overwhelmed without Lysithea, though."

Leonie's next words are swallowed by an explosion. She jerks her head towards the sound, yelping and readjusting her feet as the ground shakes. Only when it's over, does she see Claude's hand above her wrist, distantly realizing that even with muscles giving her some buff, she's gotten thinner than she'd care to acknowledge.

"What was that?" Leonie hisses, carefully straightening.

"No idea," Claude frowns in thought, watching with her as smoke rises in the distance. "You start rounding up-"

"Hey, whoa, _no_," Leonie puts a stop to that. "I'm faster than you. I can make it over there-"

"_No_," and there's a pause. Even Claude seems surprised at how pleading that sounded, though he recovers fast, a nervous determination setting over him, "We stay here, then. Make sure the students are accounted for and not getting in the way."

"Alright," Leonie nods slowly, curiosity fading as his Crest tries to smother her. She gently shakes the clasped arm, drawing his attention to it. "I'm right here. Won't be going anywhere without you."

He lets out a breath and releases, stepping back, "Thank you." Eyes the students slowly pouring from the dorms, "Let's go make sure no one else runs off."

"You got it, boss."

**7**.

Leonie takes in a shaky breath, dread treading through her veins, "_The sauna blew up?"_

"Well, the pipes did," Ignatz fidgets under her stare. She's getting a few looks from their dinner table. "And since it's such specialized craftmanship, no one knows when it will get fixed. It could be months to years."

Leonie jerks back as if hit. Then groans and pushes her plate away, crossing her arms and laying her head down. It's her own fault for never trying it. "I was looking forward to it so badly."

Lorenz very hesitantly pats her shoulder. Raphael's not as caring for the rules of society, reaching across the table to ruffle her hair, "No need to worry! I'm sure we'll have a mission to somewhere with a hot spring! There's always a few every year."

"You mean if politics aren't messy during the year," Lysithea snipes from Leonie's other side. The young woman groans. "Oh, quit complaining. I didn't get to go in either."

There's a whisper following that on the other side of Lorenz, "…it was nice."

"Marianne," Leonie feigns an attack, clutching her chest. "Is it better to have done it and lost it, or to have never gone in the sauna at all?"

That gets giggles. Lorenz rolls his eyes, "If you are quite finished, Leonie, we have other matters to attend to. Who is going to watch the lance tournament?"

"Me," Leonie replies immediately, waving as Claude and Hilda take the free seats on the other side of the bench.

When no one else commits, Lorenz sighs, "I am as well, along with Tristen and Gregory. This will be a good time to get to know our other classmates."

Leonie chuckles at the nervous glances being shared by the others, "I do know our other classmates. Not like it's hard, with fourteen of us."

"I am not here to make friends," Lysithea spits, offhandedly trying to soften the blow with, "that is only a bonus if it happens."

Before Lorenz can snap back, Hilda breaks in, "Speaking of our friends, have any of you seen Monica this afternoon."

Leonie freezes. Puts her food back down and answers 'no' with the rest of them. Dots are connecting.

_Morning déjà vu._

_Someone broke into our room._

_Afternoon explosion._

_If Edelgard's uncle has any kind of adult life, he'll be leaving tomorrow now that his niece has her spot confirmed._

Leonie doesn't regret it, but she does feel her mood dampen a little further. Now that she doesn't have to worry about that, there are two options. Wait until the Librarian gets too busy to keep an eye out or start hunting down spots to halt Jeralt's murder now. It would be less suspicious with access to the second floor, even better if she can wait until after the Death Knight is gone too. Unfortunately, she can't remember when it happens, and the thought of cutting it close makes her insides curl.

"Maybe she's in the infirmary with a few other shocked students," Claude offers.

Lorenz adds, "I heard a few have decided to return home now. The stress of what they've done throughout the year, in addition to the exams, have left them unfit to continue."

"Yah," Hilda dejectedly spoons her meal. "Maybe you're right."

**8**.

Lysithea stops on the grass, feet away from the building. Leonie turns from her half-step, tilting her head with the bit of curiosity, more hesitance, and readjusting her grip on the tray for Bernadetta's dinner, "What's up?"

Lysithea clenches her fists. Takes a few breaths, "We need to talk. Tomorrow. A picnic in the greenhouse."

When no more is said, Leonie nods a bit slow, "That sounds nice. Do they allow them?"

"Yes," Lysithea bites out. "I asked. I'll bring the blanket; you bring the food."

At that, Leonie laughs, "Isn't the person inviting supposed to bring the food."

"It's not like you can't feed us."

"True." She waits for Lysithea to open the door. "Do you want to tell me what you want to talk about?"

"No. I still need to find the words."

Leonie nods again. "Okay."

"That's it?"

"Take all the time you need?"

Lysithea throws her hands up. "Ugh!"

Leonie shrugs behind her back. _Danger Sense_ isn't pinging, which means no threat on her life. One of the few good things about not emoting strongly but remembering how it goes means the young woman's confident she can handle whatever Lysithea throws her way.

In her time chatting with the girls before bed, Leonie forgets something important.

**9**.

Leonie wakes up from _Danger Sense_ going haywire a moment before an awful _crack_ echoes through the room.

The stone bed above hers drops an inch before freezing, hitting an invisible shield meant to stop exactly this. Under the ward holding all noise inside its constraints, Leonie curses, "I knew it!"

She rolls out of bed and does a quick check. Everyone is still asleep. The sound wards are doing their job. Leonie's indignation quickly fades when she gets a good look at the fallen bunkbed. A perfect incision between bed and wall, as if it had been sheared in one motion. A _magical_ occurrence.

Leonie curses inside her head this time. She had meant to check for magical interference once everyone was asleep. Whoever had cast on the bed had meant to kill her.

_Or…_

Leonie rushes over to the other end of the room, sighing when she cannot detect anything cast to kill Aurora. She's the only unlucky one, but she can't think of _why_. If they had gone after her instead of Monica, maybe she could understand the underhanded assassination attempt. If she wasn't so paranoid about her sleeping state, they would have killed her by using a point where the wards do not reach.

This is going to involve some creativity to pick out the loopholes without her roommates knowing. She'll work on it the next night, but for now no one comes and goes in the room. Leonie feels exhausted activating the emergency wards, practically throwing herself back into bed as her fingers heal. There, she comes face-to-face with the original problem.

While she might not be earth-magic – solid magics – inclined, this will be easier than rearranging the doorways to the pockets of dirt she's looted from around the Monastery. Leonie presses a hand into the stone wall, stiffening as solely her magic activates and spreads up through the stone. Her fingertips dent into the wall as stone shifts, pressing outward and reattaching the bunkbed until _Danger Sense_ quits pinging.

The leftover magic snaps off and returns, buzzing in her chest as Leonie slumps back, fingers jolting away from the wall. She tries to breathe through the extra energy, calm it down and go back to sleep. Easier said than done, her mind whirling with theories.

The déjà vu ended when she was chatting with Claude, though it seems extremely unlikely they attacked her in the cafeteria. It would have made more sense to go after her when she was alone.

_Which_, Leonie realizes, _I wasn't. Not once after my morning walk, not even going to the washroom._

She spent the better part of the morning around _Edelgard_. If anything would have happened to her, it should have been around then.

_So, why redo the earlier part of the morning?_

Like save scumming, whatever happened didn't go their way… _so the sauna blew up?_

_But why not do the same for the Chalice?_

Her head hurts with too many variables, too many guesses. Leonie's missing something again, and she doesn't appreciate the feeling. A part of her is relieved they likely went after Monica. It means at least part of her knowledge is still valid, and Leonie isn't positive she could have held them off if they had gone for her. She's still recovering from the battle for Yuri's team.

The cruel, survivor part of her hopes Monica really was taken. A terrible _better her than me_ and _not a single thing I've done has changed main events_.

A part of Leonie hates herself for it. Still, she can sleep at night.

**10**.

_L,_

_What do you mean my daughter's there? How would you even know what she looks like? I don't even know what she looks like. I'm following up on this information elsewhere, but I am really curious on why you think that._

_How has life been recently? I made sure C gets the pleasure of writing reports for his superior about all his classmates. It is great practice for the future. I am curious what he will write for all of you, and if anything you say will match what he tells me._

_In case my next letter does not reach you in time for the placement exams, good luck. I know you won't need it. A reminder: there is always a place for you in my ranks if you find classes are below your level. _

_I hope are taking care. To answer your question from before: yes, it does all go to him. I know he keeps it for about a month, but no idea where it goes after that. If you try to get some, don't get caught. Maybe share it, help everyone build tolerance in against the good stuff. _

_If anyone asks, I know nothing._

_G_

* * *

**A/N: A lot of things fall into place, some more literally than others.**

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to** **Xekinor, xenocanaan, guisniperman, Guest number 720, HersheyBby, JoshuaFangurl, and Eclipse130 for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**Last chapter's big fight took place in the Holy Mausoleum. Can't reveal much, but Leonie's unreliable narrator is showing. **

**I really enjoy reading people's thoughts and theories, and I'm really glad the story seems to be well-received. Thank you all so much.**

**Only a few more students left to introduce. **

**Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone is well and has a great day! Please take care **


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

**1**.

_G,_

_You have the same eyes. And cheekbones. _

_I'll save one for next time you come around._

_L_

**2**.

They cut through the docks on their way to the greenhouse. Leonie waves and greets everyone who passes, getting some waves and smiles in return. She thinks she spots Claude watching from atop the wall by the dinning hall but doesn't turn to check. Lysithea and herself are guided to a place full of blooming flowers, spreading their blanket on the grass and relaxing with the only sounds coming from Leonie pulling out fruits and dried meats.

"How long have you been storing things?" Lysithea wonders, holding a pear up to the ceiling.

"A while," Leonie shrugs. "Keeps me busy." At the end, she pulls out a bag of boring looking rocks. A closer look would reveal all the rocks have a stain on them, but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary.

Lysithea only speaks up after Leonie's placed all eight either on the ground or in the trees around them, "What do those do?"

"A one-way _Silence_ and _Alert_ chain," Leonie settles, easily grabbing a strip of meat as her stomach growls. We can hear what comes in, but what we talk about won't go out. If a living thing enters, I'll know." She winces and turns as a butterfly passes through. "Like that."

Lysithea fights with her next words before settling on, "Why not just keep intruders out?"

"I haven't figured out how to mark intruders or save something to tell me who tried to enter. It took awhile, but I'm now very good at throwing sharp things where intruders come in. So, uh, for this talk, you'll have to put up with me looking around a bit."

"Sure," Lysithea looks more put-out after the explanation. They eat until she steels her nerves enough to blurt, "Okay. I need you to keep an open mind for everything I'm about to say."

"Alright," Leonie replies easily. When Lysithea keeps staring, she sets the half-eaten apple in her lap and motions her to go on.

Lysithea starts and stops a few times, getting a bit angry and clenching her teeth. "I don't have dreams, I have nightmares. I didn't get to have a childhood and…" her fists clench tighter as the silence stretches, "why aren't you asking anything?!"

"…What do you want me to ask?" Leonie realizes she's gone too-still listening but, of all things Lysithea would admit, she wasn't expecting this. "Is there anybody you want me to kill as payback?"

Lysithea gives a little shriek, but she does smile in a hidden way, "I want to get my own revenge- that isn't the point! What I just admitted? Normal people would ask what happened or why."

Leonie doesn't even give a pretense of a smile, leaning back and keeping a straight face, "If you want to tell me what happened, then you will. It's not my place to pry for anything."

Pink eyes harden with resolve, face draining of colour yet Lysithea throws out a hand and points, "Where is your necklace, Leonie?"

And for a moment, Leonie. Can't. _Breathe_.

Then smiles, looking kind and confused as anger and fear bubble under her skin in an adrenaline concoction, "What are you talking about? I don't wear jewellery."

"The necklace Jeralt gave you," Lysithea presses, _too on the money_. Leonie faintly register's her own body's attempts at going into shock, getting a bit lightheaded as the teenager begins rambling, "The one you always wear and never take off, no matter how much Hilda pesters, you just don't take it off, you're never without it, and I didn't even realize something was off for weeks until the dreams practically spelled it out for me and _I'm not crazy_." Lysithea pants. "I'm not."

_This_, Leonie thinks through the white haze and buzzing noises, _is very unexpected_. She can't decide whether she's glad Lysithea insisted to do this in private, or to be disgusted the girl thought going to a place with no witnesses was a good idea. Probably the former, because something in the overlay must have made the girl trust Leonie not to kill her.

"Captain Jeralt never gave me a necklace," Leonie speaks calmly, firmly, and watches Lysithea try her hardest not to break. She had only ever vaguely considered meeting someone else who knew what was to happen, it hurt too much to think about. Denying herself this would hurt more, even if it would keep both of them firmly away from unwanted attentions. "He never gave me a special charm I could turn into a necklace. I look up to him, respect him, but those notes are all I have left of him."

There's a storm behind Lysithea's eyes as she picks apart the words, "Special charm. That's a really specific thing to mention."

"That's what the _necklace_ was," Leonie picks up the apple for a bite, trying to hide how shaken she is.

Lysithea breaks into a smug smile. "I'm not crazy. But wait, you- why _you_?"

Any brownie points are lost. Leonie gives her a flat start, twirling the core on the tip of her finger. "Why me _what_?"

When Lysithea can't string a sentence together, Leonie sighs.

Looks her dead in the eye, "You said you don't have dreams, and then said the dreams helped you figure it out. When did they start?"

That, Lysithea can formulate, "I started getting glimpses, back when we were sharing a tent. I thought it was just my nerves. Then they started to get longer, more than just a smile from someone who looked like our classmates. There weren't many of us at first. I didn't see you until our first night at the Monastery. And then, one night they stopped completely. It took me ages to realize they stopped at the same time I stop being in pain while in our room with Hilda and Marianne."

"Wait," Leonie feels her hackles rise at the thought her roommate has been suffering, "you are in constant pain? Do the others know? Is that why you hate leaving the room?!"

Lysithea glares at the interruption, "They don't know and, interestingly, I'm not in as much pain when you carry me around. I thought it was odd, but it didn't really sink in how strange it is until I saw people looking away from Bernadetta when she's behind your back. It is you isn't it? And you did something with our new room. I went back to the old one, the pain doesn't lessen there anymore."

Leonie swears.

"You _do_ know what's happening," Lysithea latches on like a shark smelling blood. "And you know what? I could have passed it all off. Maybe asked you about installing whatever it is when we get assigned rooms, but that was it. The charms, the sword, the pocket space. It's not my place, it's benefitted me, but then I saw your chest. _I know what f**king skin wards are, Leonie!_"

The diverter ward itches as Lysithea heaves her breathes.

Leonie takes a bite of a new apple, asking around it, "How much do you remember?"

Lysithea watches her with cold eyes, "Of the war?"

The young woman gives an inconsequential hum.

"Not a lot," Lysithea breathes, calmer. "Not from any of the snippets. I know there was a war because I saw a map with the soldiers. I remember the Monastery in ruins. Claude grew a beard."

Leonie chokes on her apple, smiling as she tries to dislodge it and keep from laughing.

Lysithea doesn't get any warmer when she asks, "What do you remember?"

"I asked you when you started remembering," Leonie begins slowly, careful of her healing throat, "because when I was an infant, I remembered everything."

"Wha-"

"_And then_," Leonie talks over her, "time passed, and I struggled to remember the important bits. And then I was struggling to remember everyone's names." Lysithea sneers, and Leonie admits the worst of it, "But what really sucks, is that something must have gone really off-course in order for me to remember at all and for you to remember even the little bits."

Caution enters the teen's stance, Lysithea resisting to curl her knees to her chest, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Leonie grins, and it isn't _nice_, "that it sounds like you remember a future where the new professor ends up teaching the Golden Deer. When I remembered, I remembered when they taught the Golden Deer, when they chose to teach the Blue Lions, and when they chose the Black Eagles."

Lysithea shakes at the implication, summing it up nicely with a, "_What the f**k?!"_

Leonie hums and leans back, continuing to eat. While disappointed that Lysithea doesn't have past-life memories of the game, this is a good second. She didn't think she would ever get someone with knowledge of the future without them being evil or a Main Character. Like this, Lysithea is on her radar as _helpful_ without knowing enough to screw things over. It took years for Leonie to convince herself not to interfere with the Librarian's torture and diseases, she doesn't have that time to convince anyone else.

"What are we going to do?" Lysithea wonders, panicked.

"_We_," Leonie motions between them, "are going to do nothing. _You_ are going to study hard, stay healthy, and find a way to cure your two Crests. _I_ am going make sure none of us die before the war. Hopefully during the war, too."

Lysithea doesn't appear to have heard that last part, still stuck on, "How do you know I have two Crests?"

"You told me."

"No, I-" Lysithea look conflicted. "I… I wouldn't. I _didn't_."

"Multiple futures inside my head. Why would you think you wouldn't tell me?"

"You don't have a Crest," Lysithea spits, but her unsure eyes are drawn to Leonie's chest. "Why do you have skin wards? How did you even manage to make them?"

"There's a reason why Captain Jeralt gave me a special charm," Leonie isn't sure if it's a lie or not, but it feels right after all this time. "Without it, I had to get creative. Took me ages to get it right, and then I had to practice. I promise it's not killing me or draining me more than a passive _Repair_ does in battle."

"It is a layered ward, Leonie. Those are extremely volatile."

_Not if you correctly connect and weave them like a 4D puzzle_. "Don't I know. A lot of my warding attempts caught fire or looped if my intentions weren't clear. And hey, this one's just a simple 'x', no normal person would think it anything besides a battle scar."

One strike to block, one to divert, over a major heart artery to keep it active even when she is unconscious.

Lysithea looks down at the food, "I can help."

"If you want to help, focus on healing yourself," Leonie hesitates and tries to scramble for her memories, "I know you found a cure a few times."

There is hope all over her as the teen demands, "Really?"

"Yes," _now if only I can remember who helped you_.

–**l=˃**_sword_–**l=˃**

Back in their room, Leonie curses, rubbing a finger over the wood of the training sword, "I didn't even realize, sorry Lysithea."

"What does it do?" Bernadetta wonders, huddled under her blankets.

"I know it has something to do with magic," Lysithea says. "I've been careful not to cast around it."

"Story time," Leonie says, holding a finger to her lips towards Bernadetta. The purplette giggles with wide eyes as the sword disappears into Leonie's endless pocket, a new one coming out. This one really is just a normal, basic, mostly unaltered training sword. Bernadetta promised not to tell in exchange for using a lance. "I was told one of the first things we learn in magic theory is how to store magic. All of my attempts to do it ended in failure, and this is the best thing I came up with. It's still experimental, and what it's supposed to do is absorb magic to power attacks. Unfortunately, when I use it…"

As Leonie cringes, Lysithea prompts, "When you use it, what?"

"It… catches on fire."

They all look at the perfectly normal wooden training sword. Except it happens to have a durability ward carved on it under the handle where no one can tell. Like everything else Leonie works on. She hands it over, ignoring how her insides strain and twist at giving up a _precious_.

"I'm almost surprised that I'm not surprised," Lysithea bites out. Bernadetta giggles. "And this shouldn't explode if it's hit?"

"Oh, no, that one should be fine. Though, the other one should have been able to handle a magical hit or two. It's the constant flow of magic into it that causes… well, fire."

**3**.

"Monica has officially been declared missing," Hilda announces at dinner, looking more invested than Leonie's ever seen her. "I want you all to keep an eye and ear out. There's been no word if she's ran off or was kidnapped."

"And if she did run off," Claude brings up, "Seteth would like to see if she was the cause of the explosion."

"She _wasn't_," Hilda insists, "Monica hated the sauna, it ruined her hair."

"Sounds like motive to me."

Leonie glances away to hide her grin, catching the eye of Mercedes at the unofficial Blue Lions table. They wave at each other, causing probably-Annette and probably-Ashe to look over._ We really do need to be introduced_, Leonie things with an inner sigh. She's just glad they aren't eating the soup tonight. Leonie looks down at her own despondently while _Danger Sense_ blares at the thought of taking a bit of it.

"Why aren't you eating?" Lysithea snarks across the table, stabbing at her salad. "You're always on me about eating properly. You haven't even taken a bite."

Leonie doesn't hold back her sigh this time, resting her head on a hand, "Remember what we talked about for lunch?"

Lysithea goes still, "Yes…?"

"It's nothing bad," Leonie musters a real smile, "it's just, when I was younger, after I fell into a bush of poison ivy, I worked on a spell that would tell me if anything meant me harm."

"Sounds useful."

"The parameters are really board. If I even attempt to bite an apple seed, it alerts me that I'm in danger. But I'm too paranoid to turn it off."

Lysithea looks to the soup, eyebrows rising. Marianne is looking at Leonie with wide eyes, having heard their conversation. The white-haired teen asks, "So, what's wrong with your dinner?"

"No idea. Just, better safe than sorry."

The girls look over to where Claude, Hilda, and Lorenz are also having soup. Raphael's meat and vegetable dish isn't giving off any vibes, and Ignatz has polished off a sandwich. Marianne gulps, safe with her salad, yet terrified, "Should we say something?"

"It's just my gut instinct," _and magic_, "besides, they look like they're enjoying it. It could be nothing. Like I said, I feel uneasy if a bite includes apple seeds." She stirs around the very tempting, very nice smelling food. "As long as it isn't a steak or fish scenario, we should be good."

Lysithea doesn't hesitate to ask, "What's a steak or fish scenario?"

Leonie waves if off, "Half the people in the room eat fish, half eat steak, and one type of dish wasn't cooked properly." _And then people start dropping_, not that it would be appropriate to say.

Besides, _Danger Sense_ isn't telling her it's deadly, only something she'll regret for as long as it stays in her system. It will be interesting to see if anyone poisoned the students before the lance tournament on purpose, or if this was just a subpar meal.

**4**.

"Morning."

"Hey, you."

Leonie stops and jogs backwards, bouncing on her toes to keep warm, "How can I help you?"

"You're Leonie, aren't you?" asks the raven-haired woman.

Leonie stops, sensing it's going to be a conversation rather than a request. "That's me."

"Cyril told me you assisted him with cleaning a few times," the woman blinks, face still deadpan and tone very bland, "yet you are clearly a student. Why help him?"

The younger woman shrugs, "He's nice? It is also a good way to learn about the Monastery, where to go and such. And it helps keep my skills up."

A single raised eyebrow, "Skills?"

"Well, yah. Reaction time and balance when cleaning with water and things that drip in high places. How much pressure to use and strength training when cleaning windows and stains- why are you looking at me like that?"

The wolfish grin stretches wider, "Training grounds after the tournament today. I want see what you've got."

"Er, sure. I'll be at the tournament all day, so see you there?"

"The name's Shamir," said woman clasps Leonie's shoulder, glint in her eye growing, "but you can call me sir."

**5**.

Leonie doesn't make to the training hall in time for the start of the lance tournament. Instead, she gets waylaid by Seteth, who demands she follow him to his office. The young woman keeps her easy grin on, following a few steps behind his and not letting her eyes linger on his back too long. Not being strong enough doesn't stop her from imagining what it would be like to attack now. How much strength to get through the cape and thick chainmail under his admin shirt. She could blink and find his Crest Stone.

Leonie resists, as always. She's in a good enough mood it isn't hard.

The mood almost dies the moment she sees Claude already seated in Seteth's office. He's as surprised to see her, "Morning."

"Didn't see you at breakfast today," Leonie comments form the doorway.

"Close the door and sit down," Seteth doesn't snap, but it isn't said nicely. If she was in any less of a mood, Leonie would have eyed his window a bit longer before following the instructions. She's curious why he's got them here, which means waiting out the confrontation. It may be possible to survive jumping out the window from this height, if only because she has enough magic to try and pull a strong _Lightweight_ without hurting anything. Seteth looks at them both very intently from behind his desk, "Do you know why you're both here?"

"No," Claude replies carefully, Leonie shaking her head and echoing. "Are there more reports I need to fill out?"

"No, Claude," Seteth clasps his hands, trying to look calm even though he's ready to snap. "You are both here because you are the only two students who ordered soup last night and are not currently holed up in the lavatories."

It takes a moment for that to sink in for Leonie, in which time Claude has already slid her a look and begun drawing Seteth's attention, "What happened then? Rotten meat?"

But Seteth is not to be deterred, gazing at them both evenly, "No, seeing as the students eating the same meat by itself are perfectly fine. If I were to guess, I would say someone placed a poison in the broth."

"And, what?" Claude smiles charmingly, "I don't see why we're here."

"Leonie," she quirks her eyebrows at Seteth's undivided attention, "why are you not sick?"

She sighs, because there is no way to make this sound good, "I had a gut feeling that I shouldn't eat it."

Indeed, Seteth looks very unimpressed, "A gut feeling?"

"I know it sounds bad," she's quick to look around his desk, spotting a fancy letter opener knife. _This is a terrible idea_, "but I have a kind of sixth sense about things that want to harm me. Started around the time I fell into a poison ivy bush. I can show you, if you'd like."

He takes the bait, leaning back with some surprise, "Alright."

So she stands and grabs the letter opener, holding the handle out, "When I turn my back, throw this at me."

Seteth slams his hands on the table, standing, face much paler, "Ms. Pinelli! This is not a joke!"

She frowns and holds it over to Claude, who's looking a bit ill, "Would you mind doing it?"

"He most certainly will not!" Seteth snatches it from her hands and puts it far out of reach. Then he slumps back behind his desk, hand going to cover his face while he waves the other in a _shoo_ motion. "Return to your seat, Ms. Pinelli."

"You can call me Leonie," she grumbles, catching Claude's soft bubble of a laugh. Leonie looks over, and he's staring at her with something akin to incredulity and alarm.

Seteth takes a few, centering breaths, "Leonie, not only are you not ill, there are eyewitness accounts that you did not touch the soup. I trust you realize how suspicious this looks."

"Don't I know," she grumbles, crossing her legs and pulling on her fingerless gloves. Shifts the sleeve of her well-fit school jacket. "It all sounds circumstantial. Though, honestly, the only thing I can think to fully prove my innocence is you throwing something at me when my back is turned. Or put a couple cups in front of me and ask me which one's poisonous, but the Church isn't supposed to have any poisons on hand from what I remember of the verses."

There's a bit of silence, where Seteth does not look at Claude. Instead, as it stretches and Leonie tries to think of ways she could quickly prove Danger Sense, Seteth appears to carry more and more weight of the world. With a sigh, he unlaces his hands, pulling up a piece of paper, "Very well. Until your innocence can be proven, Leonie, you will be under a suspension-"

"That's very underhanded, Seteth," Claude speaks, and Leonie has to halt a startle as she turns to him. Even Seteth looks wary at the biting tone. "All of this because, what, you know of my poison tolerance?"

Claude's Crest is no match for a Crest Stone, but Leonie does feel a bit better as it sucks away the oppressing, earthly feel. There's an odd mix of cold and warm hitting the arm closest to him. It sharpens as Claude's mocking smile does, pulling away and aiming ineffectively at Seteth.

The pause is broken by Claude admitting, "I doused the broth with a laxative. They'll be fine by the end of lunch."

"Very well," Seteth repeats, and Leonie does not appreciate how there's a hint of smugness to him. He writes on a paper, "Your uncle, grandfather, and mother all wrote to me to expect this. Seeing as this is your second offence," _second?_ "you will be assigned work at the docks every evening for the rest of the week."

"Claude," Leonie breaks in, unsure and edging on furious, "if you didn't do it, don't take the blame. I can handle suspension until I find out who really did it."

His smile warms a bit for as long as he stares at Leonie, "I did it. No need for you to get in trouble."

"That is all, Leonie," Seteth waves his free hand, head down.

"If it's all the same," her lips press together, "I'd rather stay."

"Then you can wait outside the door."

She turns to Claude, "You alright alone?"

"Yah," he says quietly back. "I'll be right out."

**6**.

"Are you mad?" Claude wonders, sounding uncaring as they leave the second floor.

"At you? No. A bit peeved at Seteth, quite angry at the whole system, but we're good."

"Really?" Claude isn't one iota convinced. "Normally people get mad when they're dragged into my schemes. Or, you know, mad I poisoned a bunch of people."

"I'm sure I'd be a bit upset if you poisoned a friend of mine, but hopefully this will make the Monastery step up their security. Could you imagine if someone had done this with a more deadly poison?!"

"Wow, you… really don't care, huh?"

"Like I said, I can take a suspension, though I would have liked some warning. Not a fun surprise. Three strikes and I'm out, you know? So, thanks for owning up. It really means a lot."

Enough to grow some begrudging respect. He's stood up to Seteth in front of her twice now. It feels odd having someone on her side who doesn't appear to want anything from her. Oh, sure, Claude likely has an ulterior motive, but after taking responsibility to make sure Seteth didn't roundabout punish him via a future associated student, after showing he really does have her back, Leonie's ready to admit she'll save Claude from a mortal blow.

"Next time, I'll make sure not to get caught," he grins a little too cheeky for the next leader of the roundtable, and she smiles.

"Come on," Leonie pinches his shirt sleeve and tugs slightly, "I'm late to the lance tournament, and if anyone's going to be there it's the Kingdom kids. Let's see about getting you and the blond prince acquainted."

**7**.

The thing about last night's soup, is that is was pricier than the other options because of how 'nutritious' it was. Something that normally only nobles will splurge on.

"Name's Leonie," she grins at Mercedes' friends, finally introduced to the last of the future main Blue Lions. "Nice to meet you."

Ashe is a bit shy with his words, Annette is a bundle of energy that immediately connects at the first mention of magic theory. When her and Mercedes giggle about memories of their old school, Leonie ropes Ashe into a conversation about archery.

Claude slings an arm around her should in the middle of them swapping stories, "A lot of Golden Deer our year are archers, if you want to come practice with us sometime."

Ashe lights up, "Truly? I would very much appreciate the chance."

"The Leicester Alliance produces some of the greatest of bow knights, do they not, Claude?" Dimitri wonders, following up to them with Dedue.

"I don't want to brag, but yes we do," he grins wider at Leonie eye roll. "I've got to move on out. I'm sure Hilda's ready to lecture me, and better not keep a lady waiting. Make sure to say hi to Lorenz over there, you know how he gets."

"I'll be fine," Leonie shoos him off. "Do _you_ need some moral support?"

"Nah," there's something cold in his eyes even as he smiles, arms going behind his head, "I've got this. A pleasure meeting you, Your Highness, Dedue, Ashe Annette Mercedes."

Leonie can't help the chuckle, trying to hide a snort as a cough. Claude is good with remembering names, she's kind of jealous. There's a whole book of names and descriptions of people in the Monastery in her bag that she reads and remembers until it's automatic.

"Bye, Claude!" Annette cheers, waving until he's gone. "Why would Hilda need to lecture him?"

"I'm sure she'll yell loud enough the reason will get out," Leonie winces. "Hey, has everyone been to their club activities yet? I'm in band if anyone wants to join."

Mercedes giggles while the others can't decide to be amused or horrified at learning an instrument, "I am in etiquette class. I believe Lorenz is as well?"

"He is. He's promised to teach me a bit in exchange for practicing tea party etiquette."

"Oh, would you mind doing that with me as well? I do not have a kettle, but I would love someone to practice the nuances with."

Leonie answers, "Sure," at the same time Annette bounces, "I can do it too!"

Dimitri laughs, "I can offer my services as well, though I am afraid etiquette was not a class I excelled in."

"We all have things we're not great at," Leonie grins. "How about you guys? Where did you sign up?"

"Oh, I have signed up for the cooking club," Ashe blushes at the attention. "It was either that or gardening."

"I am in the gardening club," Dedue responds with a quick scan for their reactions.

"Nice!" Leonie grins wider. "We'll have to visit sometime. I just learned they allow picnics in the greenhouse."

"Really?" Ashe perks up. "And, uh, Dedue, if you ever need a hand, please let me know. I would love to learn more about the plants the club raises."

Dedue relaxes his shoulders however slightly, smiling, "Of course."

"Annette?" Leonie prompts, "How about you?"

"Crestology with Professor Hanneman." It's her turn to blush at all the looks. "I know! I know! But I really wanted to do history and magic and that's the closest they have for an offer."

"I think it sounds fun. Let me know if it's okay to visit sometime, it'd be nice to meet him beforehand if he becomes my class professor." Leonie looks to the prince, "And what about you, Dimitri?"

"I have elected to join Fight Club," he grins, unpretentious. "I am looking forward to it, though I do not believe it will have quite the variety as the other clubs."

"You'd be surprised. I sometimes stop by to join in, it can be really diverse with how many different fighting styles the students have learned."

He looks surprised, maybe even a bit grateful, and nods, "Well then, I will look forward to the first class."

Their conversation is halted with the end of the lower-ranked part of the tournament. Alois is yelling about using this time for lunch, Jeritza silently hovering behind him as he tries not to stare at their group for too long.

"I could go for some food," Leonie grins. "Anyone want to come?"

Everyone agrees, Annette looping arms with Leonie and Mercedes. The smaller teen skips between them, causing giggles as she gushes about magical theory.

**8**.

There are a lot of Eagles missing from the dinning hall. Leonie encourages the few Deer and the group of Lions to sit with the only two there, introducing Dorothea and Petra to them all.

"You should stop by the lance tournament sometime," Leonie twirls a cherry stem between her fingers, popping out the seed when no one looks. "Even if it's not something you'd like to learn, watching others can help you find areas to take advantage of when facing a lance user."

"Oh, yes!" Petra beams. "I enjoy the sword, but it has been told to me that it is weaker to lances. Is this really true?"

"It is in Fódlan. The verses say that the Goddess blessed her favoured weapons so none would be strongest. I don't know if the blessing exists past the borders, but the weapon triangle of swords-lances-axes is a magically bound mechanic."

"It's also why fists don't have weaknesses," Ashe breaks in, trying his hardest not to blush under Petra's earnest stare. "Only Her saints and the Ten Elites were ever blessed with physical power that was passed down in Crests. Fists are considered brutish and a last resort."

"That's why they teach gauntlets here," Leonie continues, popping out another pit. Danger Sense lessens with the small poison out of her mouth. "I think it's a shame they don't teach unarmed combat, but it is what it is."

"I can teach you some fists," Petra smiles, looking a bit confused. "Bare fist combat."

"Unarmed combat," Leonie repeats, demonstrating her hands. "Unarmed is another word for no weapons."

"But you still have fists and legs?"

Leonie breaks into a proud grin while Ashe looks confused. The young woman nod, "I agree, but the Church does not believe fists and legs to be true weapons. Only the things you can hold, like swords or gauntlets."

"Oh," Petra nods, "I believe I am understanding. But what if you cannot hold a weapon?"

Ashe looks uncomfortable, not that Leonie can blame him. The topic stirs a mixture of anger and horror in her every time. Ashe answers, "That's why we're here, right? To learn how to hold them correctly and fight."

Leonie subtly kicks Petra when it looks like she's going to ask about what she really means. The orange haired woman subtly shakes her head. "Hey, Ashe, besides the bow, what are you looking forward to learn about most?"

And with that, the topic is successfully brought onto something less rage-inducing to outsiders. _Oh, sure_, Leonie has no idea what other countries or states have in place for their disabled or handicapped, but there's a reason why everyone in Fódlan has two working hands and feet, two eyes, two ears, and a nose.

_A very likely reason why a Dimitri with one eye never went back to the Kingdom._

Leonie feels her veins burn with hate just thinking about the topic.

**9**.

"Good, you're here," Shamir states, the little wolfish grin appearing.

"Hi Cyril," Leonie waves and pushes off a pillar. It's only them and a few lingering students and adults, straggler knights coming and going.

"Leonie," he greets stiffly. "How are you?"

"Well, thanks. So, sir, what did you need me for?"

Cyril takes a moment to realize _sir_ is Shamir, who explains, "Repeat what you told me earlier, about the chores."

Confused, a bit interested, but mainly with nothing else to do, Leonie complies.

Cryil's face goes from thoughtful to enlightened, "I know about the scrubbing, but everything else makes more sense now."

"Leonie," Shamir demands in her bland tone, "go grab a sword. Today you're going to fight each other."

By looking at Shamir's face, she knows something that's making Leonie feel a bit weary. They go at it for hours, Leonie working hard not to overdo her meager talents against the young teen who leaves too many openings even with the proper forms, all the while keeping from using the magic around her as it practically begs to be used. It's odd just how much it's pressing against her.

Finally, Shamir calls it. She spares a smile for the young one, "Go get cleaned up. Dinner's on me tonight."

"Yes, Shamir!" Cyril struggles to keep his face blank at the praise, bolting off and letting it split the moment he can.

Then Shamir turns to Leonie, eyeing her thoughtfully, "Why didn't you go all-out on him?"

"He obviously needs the practice."

"He won't learn if you let it go on."

"He also won't learn if I just knock him down every couple of minutes. That's not teaching, that's flaunting."

Shamir's small grin is like that of a predator, she stalks forward like one too. Leonie doesn't flinch, even with their faces inches apart. "Why didn't you use any buffs?"

Leonie stiffens.

"It's not something everyone in Dagda can do," Shamir continues quietly, "but everyone can recognize the signs of overuse. You also don't feel like anything, don't have a mark, which leads me to believe you're stopping this all by yourself."

Leonie's grin doesn't drop, voice confused even though she's itching to run, "What are you talking about, sir?"

Shamir leans back and taps her collar, specifically the carved pendant, "You can sense it, can't you? Have a hard time feeling killing instinct, but the magic is practically suffocating. You don't have to say anything. There are a lot more sensors in Dagda than there ever were here. Never thought I'd meet another one."

Denial is too much effort, so Leonie sighs and puts her hands on her hips. Fingers itching towards her pocket, "Are you going to tell anyone?"

"You're the only one who knows about me, so no."

"Not even the-"

"_No one knows_," Shamir tells her, gaze darting around to the few instructors and students still left. Not a single one is even paying attention to them, "and I'd prefer to keep it that way. I assume you would as well."

Leonie gives a short nod, "So, why tell me at all?"

"Because you don't have a single tether," Shamir defaults back into her bland, emotionless mercenary look, "and I was there, once. As nice as it is to have someone to teach, I need to make sure you aren't going to snap."

"Whoa, wait, _teach_?"

The lip curl comes back, "Cyril is my apprentice, but that doesn't mean I can't teach others a thing or two. You're doing well for self-taught, but there are a few trade secrets you'll need in case you ever encounter another sensor again."

Leonie bites back the indignation and flecks of anger, don't say_ I think I'm doing great after struggling with this practically my whole new life_, and nods. At the heart of it, she is a believer that there will always be someone better, and if Shamir's offering who's she to say no? "Alright."

"Friday evening, my room. I trust you'll be able to find it."

_Right next door to Catherine's_, "I'll find it. Is there a specific time or…?"

"Evening."

"Right…"

Leonie's not too sure if she likes the direction the week's been going anymore.

**10**.

Lorenz sits across from Leonie at dinner, an odd occurrence made even stranger as he says, "Thank you for introducing us to some many of our future schoolmates."

Leonie translates it as _thank you for introducing me to the Crown Prince_. She tries for a smirk, but winces when Hilda slams her tray down, "Are, uh, you two doing any better?"

Claude had slipped an antidote into their soups, but both had spent the early morning ill. Both nobles still look paler than a bleached vampire, but in much better moods. Claude has wisely chosen to sit on the other side of Raphael, hidden from most sights.

"I am getting better," Lorenz replies calmly, but throws a glare to where he knows the perpetrator is. "Though there is a very interesting piece of gossip floating around as to why I am unwell along with most of the room."

Leonie did pick up on all the dirty glares being thrown their way. She'd probably have felt the same way if it was her too. But it isn't, so she doesn't care more than making sure Bernadetta and Lysithea didn't have any. Even that's a stretch.

Though she is starting to wonder just how good Claude's poison resistance is, "Hilda, was there any luck with Monica today?"

"Nothing," Hilda appears to sink into a worse mood. _Oops_. "Though I'm sure more people would have searched if they hadn't been flocking to the toilets."

Claude coughs. Leonie catches a grin he's trying best to conceal. Lysithea sees it, in turn grumbling about an, "idiot."

"We can search tomorrow," Marianne nervously tells Hilda.

The pinkette brightens slightly, "You'll really help."

"Yes."

Leonie doesn't offer, even as Ignatz and Raphael do. She does have a tournament to watch, a routine to slowly get back into.

She's still deciding if the Phantom of the Monastery needs to make a comeback or not. Suspicious if it does, suspicious if it doesn't. At least the rumors about it have died down with the explosion.

"Leonie?"

"Sorry, Hilda, I've already promised my time to a few other people."

There, that was diplomatic. Hilda can glare all she wants, she's as much of a flight risk as the others. Worse, seeing as only a handful of times will Hilda stay with Claude as the implied right hand of the Golden Deer house.

Leonie still has to fight for her spot in the class.

_Ugh_.

Taking it easy isn't as easy as she thought it'd be.

* * *

**A/N: Lysithea notices things, Shamir senses things, and Leonie is the only main-class canon character taking band as an elective.**

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to** **Xekinor, xenocanaan, Eclipse130, northernlion196, ShadowWolf223, shyguy, JoshuaFangurl, HersheyBby, Guest number 720, IReadNoNonsense, and BlueBunnyims for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**I hope everyone is well and has a great day! Please take care **


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

**1**.

Leonie is on her seventh lap, using a bit of magic to boost her _Speed_, when she spots two people she hasn't greeted. A dark, deadly glare comes from the one who can focus on her. Leonie gives a cheeky grin, waving, "Good morning!"

"Oh," Edelgard startles. Hubert practically seethes. "Good morning, Leonie."

And that's that. They walk by while she jogs on. Even passes them again on lap eight, Hubert watching her only as she draws close. This continues until lap ten, where Leonie cuts the magic and slows to finish off towards the dinning hall. She makes small talk with the employees, ordering the highest calorie health food she can. It's a bit busier today; the last day before lance-centered class exams begin and, unlike sword-centered titles, a lot of people aren't taking it well.

"-_if you mention Spark's theorem of instinctual magic one more time_-"

"-_Falcon Knight, right? What do you mean 'Wyvern Lord too'?!"_

"_I forgot about Bow Knights! Do you think I can make up any points in the archery competition? Goddess, no, I'm not going in the gauntlet tournament."_

"_Two Cavaliers! Two Cavaliers!"_

"Can I just say," Leonie eyes her still unfairly attractive tablemate. He probably roles out of bed that way, while at least half the hall around them is frizzing or forgot makeup, "I am very glad not to be them right now."

Claude smirks, "Good morning to you too."

"You know you agree," she also notices how much more he's scanning the room, almost like her in the third day of being awake. When he can, Claude always goes for the seat with his back to the wall. Leonie would be right next to him if she didn't trust her ability to take and heal from sneak attacks. "I can only hope we're better prepared for the tests."

"It is surprising how many are left to take lance certifications," Claude shrugs. "Most of the Master Class testing involves at least decent proficiency with lances."

Leonie makes a face, "Do people normally make it to Master Classes?"

"If you listen to Lorenz, it's a noble prestige thing. I don't really get it, but my grandfather threatened getting me the Holy Knight certification if I don't get a Master Class certification by the end of the year."

Leonie rolls her eyes, "Oh yes, because having someone pay for you to learn magic, lances, and riding is such an ordeal."

"Hey, we can't all be good students in every subject. Besides, don't you already have a Mercenary licence?"

"That I had to pay for myself, with someone recommending me. If I don't get the certification by the end of the year, that's it for my chances. Mercenaries rarely have the money to certify one of their own, and the leader usually never agrees to vouch for them because it runs the risk of splitting the brigade."

"Huh," Claude looks thoughtful, "the more you know. Do you not like it that I have the money to pay for schooling?"

"While I am jealous of _all_ nobles for not having to worry too hard on that, I am more upset with the lack of options for commoners. I was only taught basic reading, writing, and math because I was the only kid in the village for years. Then I had to start teaching the kids a lot of those things because the village was more focused on spreading the will of the Church and getting large enough to get back on the map. I am a strong supporter of education for everyone, but any teachers are usually private and paid exuberant amounts or doing it out of the kindness of their hearts and are actually terrible professors."

While it isn't silent in the dinning hall, it's quiet as Claude doesn't say anything, thinking.

"Sorry," she shrugs, utterly unapologetic, "I feel very strongly about Fódlan's education system."

"Don't apologize," Claude says, gleam in his eyes. "I've never thought about the education system as a whole like that. Learning just feels natural. Something I've always had to do, and always had people to teach me. Do you know what it's like in other villages?"

"Merchant kids get taught the all basics. Farmer kids get very basic addition and subtraction, maybe enough reading for contracts or fief payments depending on their size. If it's large enough for a mayor, then they and the Church officials are the only ones with higher education, whether it be a term in the Officer's Academy or private lessons with other officials. But those are just the villages around Gloucester. No idea what it's like in the big wide world."

Claude looks thoughtfully at her, both of them ignoring the screaming going on at another table, "What would you do to fix it?"

Leonie makes an annoyed sound, "If I could? Free education. Vetted teachers and a system that didn't interrupt the planting and harvest seasons. Some kind of regulation to make sure kids are being taught and not conditioned. But that opens a bunch of other problems and I don't have the patience for that kind of change. I'll leave it up to you big-wig nobles to run your districts."

"Gee, I feel so honored," he sasses.

"You should," she narrows her eyes, mockingly sticking her nose up with a wry smile. "You have the power for change, young _padawan_, use it wisely."

Whatever Claude's comeback – or question – would be is dropped for a doubletake. Leonie looks at him weirdly, turning around as the room falls silent. She rolls her eyes at the overtly public display of affection, muttering, "For goodness sake."

The first thing she pulls from her bag is a tomato, which, _no_. Next is a vine of a few sour grapes. Leonie picks one off and throws it on a line, turning back to Claude before it hits the couple. There's a crash and a bit of choking.

Claude struggles to contain his giggles, "You got that in their mouths."

"Huh. I didn't think they were going to come up for air so soon."

His laughter joins in with a few others, again both ignore the shouts on the other side of the room, "I can't believe they broke the rule so openly."

"Don't date your fellow students until after graduation? I guess it's close enough, and it's not really a rule… is it?"

"It's implied," Claude's smile strains as he focuses back on her. "None of the professors will do anything unless it gets out of hand. We're here to cultivate alliances, after all."

"I guess that's why Lorenz stepped up his game."

The teen stiffens, trying for lackadaisical, "Did he try something?"

"He's been asking all the current noble female students for tea and snacks, not that he has a proper teapot for it yet. I'm surprised no one's hit him with how stressed all the students are."

"_What do you mean you didn't know there were three Hero Lances?!"_

"_I thought L__úin was the Lance of Ruin!"_

"He'll learn," Claude pretends to relax back. "Like I said, our teacher will get involved if things get out of control."

Leonie doesn't roll her eyes, but she really wants to. Lorenz isn't taking rejection well, pressing on the already short-fused nobles who are stressing about their futures. Leonie doesn't want to be the one to sit him down, but if he goes after Bernadetta or Lysithea all bets are off. She's done the 'no means no' speech as the Phantom, but with rumors dying off so are the lessons. She's still up in the air about resuming activities next week, for now left to cowing people with a smile that's more of a sneer, "And until we get assigned actual professors?"

Like he's reciting a boring memorization, "Anyone has justifiable cause for any complaints or actions if they can prove someone was crossing boundaries."

Leonie makes a face and gathers the things for her roommates, "Unfortunate that Lorenz is too bright for that."

Claude hums nonchalantly, "Maybe he'll get the message if he tries to pull moves on Flayn."

**2**.

"Well now," while Leonie speaks, Bernadette breathes a sigh of relief and pulls out the training lance she was trying to hide behind her back, "that's an intense look."

Lysithea makes a noise of acknowledgement but doesn't stop from glaring at the book in her hands.

"That was some great form," Leonie praises Bernadetta, dropping a tray her bed. The purplette scrambles up and begins eating like she's been starved. "Though you'd have more space outside-"

"No!" Bernadetta screams through a mouth full of food. Begins to choke a bit.

Finally, Lysithea looks up. She makes a noise at the oatmeal dropped on her bed but doesn't comment on that.

Leonie leans on her and Lysithea's bed pole, taking note that a few books have made their way to Bernadetta's pillow, "You two are coming to the tournament with me, _right_?"

Lysithea gives a scathing review of, "No thanks."

"My notes can't be that interesting."

"Are you kidding?!" the teen leans over and holds out the page she was on. Leonie's impressed with her own writing, it had taken ages to sort through her shorthand scrawl and make it readable. Even then, _readable_ isn't exactly a language spoken Fódlan. Lysithea must have memorized the cypher to have made it this far, which is very impressive. _There's a reason the white hair teen was the top of her class for theory_. "Alert wards? Repelling wards? You have equations and theories in here on how to bend light and trick people's senses into not noticing a person. This is at least B Rank magic- stuff we aren't even allowed to look at without a professor's permission!"

"That's just being creative," Leonie shrugs, wondering if what she's feeling is awkward or indigent at the praise. "I don't know any of the theories about magic, so I trialed and errored. Most of that's from-"

"A hermit you helped once," Lysithea sneers. "Or was it a beggar, disgraced scholar. Or _maybe_ it was passing time on the road while you guarded a merchant family."

"Who knows?" Leonie shrugs nonchalantly.

"Unbelievable," Lysithea hisses, knowing each excuse is probably a lie. She doesn't ask where it really all came from, can't ask with Bernadetta watching them. All of it is trial and error, but Leonie can't tell anyone she formulated it all herself. Magic hasn't advanced in a long time, and those who do claim to discover things have a tendency of living very short lives. For a long moment, Lysithea stares at the pages. "It just… it all seems familiar. It makes sense. You've detailed enough that I could probably put theory into practice."

"Just make sure you don't go crazy," Leonie warns. "We just want the one that makes you feel better."

"Of course," Lysithea drags a finger down the page, stopping on a dimensional matrix that requires belief in order to effect into the fourth dimension. "But I really think I can crack the tagging mechanism. Maybe even with Marianne. The few times we talked about theories she mentioned her family can tag animals with magic."

"You first," Leonie is firm here. It's the only reason she's letting the teen touch her things. Even with copies in her bag, the itch to take it back causes raised bumps on her arm. "We figure out what's helping you, then you can do what you want."

"Sure. Fine."

"How about you, Bernadetta?" The teen squeaks at the attention. "What books are you reading."

"Um," the purplette chugs back the last of her meal, wiping, and then touching the cover so she can see the title. "The Mercenary Captain and his Apprentice?"

Leonie sucks in a sharp breath and chokes on saliva. She curls inward with how bad it is, laughter trying to spill as her day flashes before her eyes.

Lysithea sighs, exasperated, "Did you not realize you took it out?"

"W-ward," Leonie chokes and coughs until she can breathe again. Poor Bernadetta looks near tears. "Ward matrix on the back- back seven pages. Cheap book, ran out of places to write. Forgot it was there, same matrix is near the end of the brown cover back."

"They're all brown!"

"The one with little hearts inside. To match what's in the back of all my romance novels."

Bernadetta sniffs, "A-are you okay, Leonie?"

"Fine," she pulls out a different book. "This one's more, er, clean… in more ways than one. The Songbird Mistress, apparently a favourite in the Country of Galatea, but after meeting Ingrid I will never bring it up in front of her."

Bernadetta cheers up at the poor drawing she sees when she holds the cover. Leonie lets go, and for her the cover turns into a blank mud colour. "What is it about?"

"A former baroness who has made her fortune marrying and killing her husbands ends up in love with the most caring Duke in the land, and the troubles they must go through. _Will their love survive, or are their different lifestyles too much to stay together_?"

"Gross," Lysithea deadpans while Bernadetta gets to reading. Leonie goes to take back the erotica fiction, but Bernadetta stops her with wide eyes and a wish to keep reading that after. "Why would you ever read that?"

"It passes time," Leonie shrugs and stretches, "and the side margins are great places to write when you've run out of paper. Bernadetta, do you want to read and watch the tournament?"

Unfocused eyes blink up at her. Bernadetta process, and then takes a shaky breath, "I can read in the corner?"

"Sure."

"…Alright."

**3**.

Bernadetta doesn't end up in the corner, but in the shade on the stairs beside Leonie. She doesn't read but hugs the book to her chest and watches the fighting instead of chatting to the others.

All the Blue Lions come to watch, none looking worse for wear. Sylvain and Lorenz are off trading barbs between flirting with the incoming female students, while Felix is being an unwitting bro and distracting Ingrid with a debate about lance stances. Edelgard actually showed up and is in a seemingly pleasant discussion with Dimitri while Hubert and Dedue loom behind the Princess and Prince respectively. Ignatz is a mixture of stuttering, blushing, and shooting _help_ glances at Raphael as Annette and Mercedes switch between art and Church history topics. Raphael and Ashe are having a great time discussing trade and lance prices in different territories.

Leonie watches the competitors of the Lance Tournament like a hawk, fingers itching for a weapon to copy some of the maneuvers. Jeritza glances up at Mercedes every now and then, easing the orange haired woman's concerns that it isn't _her_ he focuses on. Ferdinand comes in off to the side and makes a beeline for royals. The strongest lance user in the Golden Deer class slips and loses to the Black-Red Eagle.

Leonie wonders if Hilda, Marianne, and Claude were the only ones in her class to actually go looking for Monica, or for how long and hard Ignatz, Raphael, and Lorenz even tried. Lysithea likely forgot all about it, not that she was asked to join in on the hunt.

The young woman looks down as something brushes her boots. A very familiar calico cat twines around her leg, Crest bonds pressing with every purr. There's something in its mouth.

"Kitty," Bernadetta gasps, her squeak drawing a few gazes.

Felix tries not to look like he's softening as he jerks his head away with a sniff, "I didn't realize the animals came in here."

"They normally don't," Leonie drawls, unimpressed and grinning more like a flash of teeth at the creature. It drops the black thing and rubs against her leg, smug. "I think the sound bothers them."

"Hello there," Mercedes is on her knees, hand out and beckoning. "Here, kitty kitty."

The cat gives her one more bump and goes to where it's wanted. Bernadetta even leaves the safety of her support item to pet it. While all the cat tea timers circle the meowing one, Leonie sighs and scoops up the thing it brought, "Guess I'm going to Seteth today. Wait, do we have a lost and found?"

"What is it?" Dimitri appears beside her, standing in Bernadetta's vacated spot. For a Lion, he apparently isn't fond of the cat either. Himself and Dedue, by the wary glances they give the small animal.

"A pen," Leonie answers, practically feeling the money the thing would sell for. "A _nice_ pen. Does it have a-" she pops the cap off. It does. "Whoever lost this must be freaking out."

"It appears very special," Dedue comments, "likely something an official might use."

"You're right. I better deliver this to Seteth, then. Don't want someone to take it if it's not theirs…"

"It would be impolite for anyone to do that," Dimitri frowns, taking care to keep space but leaning over to get a better look. "I am afraid I do not recognize the make. Hopefully they will take better care of their belongings in the future."

Leonie pauses. Slow turns a stare at them, "Have you never lost something before?"

The two look proud, both commenting something about 'keeping everything in order'. For some reason, this gives her a very, _very_ suspicious feeling. The young woman glances again at the cat.

Smug thing keeps purring under the calm ministrations of the cat lovers.

Leonie looks back at the pen and resolves to find that Lost and Found every institution should have. Fódlan commoners normally have a finders-keepers attitude, even with the Church's preaching about theft being wrong. A school as prestigious as this, the nobles likely aren't clawing their way through second-hand items, no matter how new or recently lost.

As much as she'd like to keep the cat's gift, there are too many witnesses and it's too great an item. Not that she'd take its gift anyway. That's just asking it to take a liking to her, or to later try and budge a favour.

_Does it even have higher level thoughts_?

She's not sure she wants to find out.

**4**.

The only movement coming from Leonie is the slight rise and fall of her chest. Since the tirade began, she's blinked once. There is a very hot rage simmering in her veins, but more so she's amused. Maybe even feeling betrayed.

Leonie's grin doesn't break.

She'd come into this empty storage room because a future classmate had asked for her help on the way back from Seteth's. There are fourteen future Golden Deer, six of them female. Lauza Fontana had led her into a place no one would come to, and then the future Eagle, Lisanne, and future Lion, Rhianna, had shut the door. A cute little friend group of nobles who stood at the door and verbally bashed everything from Leonie's hair to her commoner status. To sum up all the insults and speeches, _you don't belong here, you aren't worth a drop of their Crest blood_, and _no one would miss you_.

Leonie leaned back against the wall and crossed a leg, never faltering.

There's a part of her, though, that had held on to the little hope. It's the part that burns, that reminds her what betrayal feels like. Fantasy worlds - stories where groups of people are together - like to promise family. House as a family. Class as a family. Team as a family. They prove later that this isn't true, turning their backs on the pariahs, leaving the odd one out. She had held hope that this cesspool of humanity would have been different, that the Golden Deer were different.

When nothing else comes, Leonie tilts her head and asks, "Are you done?"

Maybe it's wrong to taint the whole by the actions of the one, but at least now she knows the true colours of these three.

"Done?!" Lauza sputters, turning even more red then when she was really shouting. "Didn't you hear us?! You have no future here!"

Leonie laughs, startling them into taking a step back. "Maybe." She pushes off the wall. Smiling. "But since it's the Church who accepted me, I think I'll take their word over yours. That not only am I wanted here, I'm on equal footing as the rest of you."

"Not when you don't make it into the main classes you won't be," Rhianna sneers. "When we get in, we'll make sure you'll realize where you stand."

"Funny," Leonie snorts. "'_When'_. Like you won't be fighting over fifty people for a spot in the seven, because let's be realistic. None of you are making Leader of you houses. And Lauza, you know you've always been allowed to sit with us, right?" That throws the girls, because they brought up Leonie _weaseling_ into the noble group where she isn't wanted. "It's a free table. Don't take out your lack of confidence on me. You aren't even trying to get better and look at what you're up against. Half of the top tens on the obstacle course, heirs to the roundtable seats and their vassals, and children from the most well-connected merchants in Fódlan. I really am the best target, aren't I? Because I might be strong, but my connects are non-existent.

"You're all lucky I don't care about your complaints," _lies_, Leonie steps forward and pumps her fist, only there are shadows drawing on her face that leaves the girls a few shades paler in fear. "But if I find out you've pulled this stunt- heck, if you've even looked at another person wrong again after this, then I'm telling Seteth everything that happened today."

Lisanne and Rhianna keep their spines, the former trying to sneer while the latter states, "Three against one, you have no proof against our word."

"You really don't think the Church has ways to know you're lying?" Leonie bluffs. The girl's share glances. "You really think you'll get away with hate speech in the Home of our religion? Crest blood gives you an advantage, but being a decent person is something that is preached every day here. You don't see me as a person, do you? Do you even know my name?"

Lauza in tears chokes out the first name, giving her friends some much needed backing. Lisanne clucks her tongue, "Do you know ours?"

"Lauza Fontana, Rhianna Mc-something, and Lisanne Adesso," Leonie gives a long glance at the last one, "Dorothea told me you were a kind person. It saddens me to see she's mistaken."

"Hey," Rhianna snaps, "don't take to her like that."

"Oh?" Leonie abruptly loses all threatening posture, smiling and spreading her hands out. "To any normal person, what you just did to me would have been a nightmare. Since you don't care about crushing people, why should I spare your feelings? Now, are we done here? I do have a life, you know."

Lauza moves aside, Lisanne glancing down and following suit. Rhianna tries to stare her down, but scoffs and backs off when Leonie makes a _move aside_ face.

Before she opens the door, her smile falls and the shadows hide her face, "I really hope you'll prove me wrong and grow up to be better people. Goddess knows the world isn't getting better by itself."

Leonie doesn't feel satisfied she left the teens alive, but the betrayal she feels tempers it. All three Houses are equally tainted for her. Better to learn not to put stock in inter-House alliances now than when someone really does leave her to die.

**5**.

Linhardt closes his book on a finger when she sits, "You're late."

"Sorry," Leonie replies unapologetically, "a few people wanted my help with something."

"Oh?"

"Just a difference of opinion," she settles against the tree, glancing up towards the classrooms. "Did I miss any suffering?"

"Some," he pulls out a few scrap papers, dropping them in her lap. "I have yet to glimpse the professors, however the students either come out determined or in tears."

"I hope that's not us next year."

"I am sure we will be better prepared."

Leonie unfolds the paper and reads. Linhardt slumps against her; in the silence she's trying to do some math. Finally, the young woman nods, points, "How much sleep did you get on these nights?"

"Very little."

"Yah… And this one, did the discussion you were in increase your stress?"

Linhardt thinks about it before nodding.

"Well… there's some good news to all this. You aren't hallucinating or having sleep paralysis, correct?"

"Correct."

"And, while I don't think you have insomnia, doing your best to keep a regular nighttime schedule and _not staying awake for extra hours because of sudden_ _inspiration_ should allow you to sleep more at night. I can recommend teas to help with drowsiness and to keep you alert, but they're not guaranteed fixes."

"At this point, anything would help," Linhardt sighs. "Edelgard and Ferdinand have been after me recently. If I can get through one meeting with them without falling asleep, I will take it as a success."

Leonie's fingernails dig into her skin, swallowing the words that want to blurt out. She has to rephrase the advice, and it hurts, "It would be good if you have someone in your house you can talk to about this. Stress is a trigger for a lot of things, and by the looks of it one of your sleep triggers. If you had someone you trusted to go to before any emotions get to much, or to help stop the stressors, it will go a long way to helping."

She wants to say_, you should tell them. _

"I will think about it," Linhardt sighs and takes his notes back. "I do wish it would stop when I get excited. Falling asleep before I can write down my Crest theories has been annoying."

"How is that, by the way? Have you had much of a chance to talk with Hanneman?"

"Not too much, though he's promised more time once the new year begins."

Leonie hums, "Did you give any thought to Crests working like puzzle pieces?"

"I did; however, I am more uncertain the more I think on it. If two or more Crests could work together, I would think there would have been a documented case of a person wielding multiple Crests. There are certainly enough past marriages between noble houses to facilitate that."

**6**.

Next to Leonie at dinner, Ignatz stiffens. She looks up and follows his gaze, her own sharpening at the sight, "They give you trouble?"

"N-no," Ignatz is still tense, watching the six who shouldn't be future main class Golden Deer sit with Claude, Hilda, and Lorenz. "I'm just- surprised."

"The more the merrier," Leonie shrugs like she isn't affected. She has no right to feel mad at the three roundtable heirs smiling and conversing with the others. She didn't tell anyone, so how would they know. _What does it matter?_ "Maybe it will become a thing, all of us eating together. We're small enough it wouldn't be a bother."

Ignatz watches them long enough that Leonie shrugs and goes back to eating. She catches Raphael's eyes and he grins, hopefully to reassure her that he'll talk with Ignatz. It's not good to keep problems bottled up.

_Paranoia and stress, which breaks a person more?_

**7**.

On the last day of the tournament, everyone who should be in the next main classes show up. Every Eagle, Lion, and Deer. Several of the students are calling the Empire's house Red Eagles, but no one corrects them or makes a fuss. Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude are getting to know each other better, Hilda throwing in comments every now and then while Hubert seethes and Dedue stoically watches their every move.

Leonie's having a hard time deciphering who it is Hilda isn't fond of, Edelgard or Hubert. If she'd gamble, it would probably be Hubert and his few scathing comments.

Linhardt's fallen asleep in the corner, Bernadetta squeezed next to him with her book. Petra and Caspar have engaged Ashe into a conversation about hunting, meanwhile Ingrid, Raphael and Ignatz are wrapped in a conversation about the Monastery's art. Ferdinand and Lorenz are metaphorically putting their feet in their mouths talking with Dorothea, Mercedes, and Annette, while Lysithea is just about ready to cast dark spells at Sylvain for trying to teach Marianne to smile.

"We could do much better," Felix scoffs from beside Leonie, actually watching the tournament with her, commenting as though it isn't well known he's a much better swordsman than a lance user.

"You're probably right," Leonie agrees, disappointed that through a string of luck and nerves the finalists are all B Rank lance users. A part of her wonders darkly if the better students dropped out early to get extra study time.

"We should spar."

"Sure. When?"

"After this."

"Can't, I'm going hunting with Petra. We're making a special Brigid dinner tonight. You and the others are welcome to join, pretty much every future Eagle and Deer here are coming."

Felix grunts, unhappy, but doesn't protest beyond, "I'm sure the boar Prince-"

He coughs, curving over his stomach after Leonie elbowed him. They get a few gazes, but her warm smile turns them away. Leonie leans in, "Wild or not, it's not _nice_ to refer to people as animals."

"You-" he cuts out his words at the look on her face. "Tch, whatever. We will be sparring this week."

"Why not come by the future Red Eagle's dorms in the morning? Lysithea, Bernadetta, and I are doing some weapon practice. Nothing too extreme, but until we get rights to use the training grounds it's good enough."

"Why should I demonstrate my skills if I cannot go all-out?"

Leonie winks, turning back to the fighters, "How will anyone ever become a challenge if they don't know what to do? Who knows, Lysithea might just surpass you one day. She has a real future with the sword."

He sends the white-haired teen a look, obviously not seeing any potential in her small, limp noodle-like form. _That's okay_. He doesn't need to know her potential, only facilitate its growth.

**8**.

Leonie had dropped her and Petra's game and forage in the kitchen and then left as soon as the others said they had a handle on it all. Somehow, Mercedes was there taking Petra's lead and managing to rope in several future students to help with the large amount left to them. While they prepare for the dinner picnic, the orange haired young woman is off to do a bit of scouting if she can get away with it. Flayn had once mentioned how she wanted to try new foods, why not invite her along?

If she can find her, that is.

_First stop, Seteth's office._

As luck would have it, no one is in the second floor's main corridor, not even in front of the doors to the archbishop's seat and office. Leonie knocks to be polite, feeling the burst of magic that's alerting anyone inside to her presence in some way, but nothing else happens. There's not even a cat around.

_Perfect_.

Leonie raises her hands just above the door, feeling for the matrices. There is complex magic all over it, touching the office and only just staying out of reach of whatever Hanneman's done to his room. On the doorknob alone are three anti-lockpick spells. From what very little she recognizes, there are spells on the door to track people who go by, alert who is at the door, and alert if anyone touches it. Those feed into the inner walls where there are bound to be more spells, but the hallway stone faces have none of the magic.

One thing she does note, is the strong feeling of _Crest_ ability woven through the magic. It almost has a smell of pine or grass, maybe even maple or moss. It gives her a similar feeling of a great big red light on a highway intersection.

Leonie leans back and shakes her hands, trying to rid of the feeling. Now she knows what to work with for the first layer, she's curious what the second is. _This_, Leonie thinks as she moves towards the staircase, intent on next looking for Flayn in the music room, _is going to be as difficult as I'd hoped_.

**9**.

Lysithea holds a hand flat and high like Leonie taught her. The orange haired woman high-fives her, raising her eyebrows, "What are we celebrating?"

"I don't know how you did it," Lysithea's grin is practically evil, "but Felix said he's coming to practice tomorrow. How did you convince the best swordsman of our year to train me?"

Leonie deadpans, "I batted my eyelashes."

"Ugh," Lysithea puts her back into pushing the woman over. "Be serious. He promised to work me and Bernadetta after she tackled him into the ground for drawing a sword on me."

Leonie pauses, "I don't know whether to yell at him or be proud of you two."

"I already did the yelling, Bernadetta did the screaming. And by the way, she's locked herself in our room again. Can you get her out?"

"Sure," but before they can make it past the blankets and tables spread with food, Petra marches up to them. "Hey, Petra! How'd everything tu-"

The princess grabs both Leonie's hands and holds them up between their chests, a most serious expression on her face. "Leonie, thank you for this meal."

"Thank you for this meal, Petra. None of this would have happened if you had not told me what to find."

The strong, normally calm teen nods and releases their hands to wipe away a tear, unnoticed to all else. She lets out a string of words, which Leonie can only pick up _friend_ and _meal_ _finder_ from.

"Hey," Leonie holds out her hands, facing up in a way the few Brigid merchants she's seen taught her. Petra smiles blindingly and places her hands on top, "If you ever want to hunt and cook a meal together, let me know. It was a joy working with you."

"You as well," Petra utters slowly, pulling herself together before nodding and making her way back to the tables of food.

Lysithea blinks a few times, "What was that all about?"

Leonie can't help the laugh, "Not everyone starts a meal like we do in Fódlan."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

**10**.

Leonie is chilling on a blanket by herself, watching everyone interact, when suddenly she's not so _by herself_. Dorothea and Mercedes sit on either side of her, the former sighing and wondering, "Ladies, just what are we going to do with them?"

Leonie raises her eyebrows, but Mercedes seems just as confused under her airy smile, "What do you mean?"

"Eddie's a good leader and all, but she has responsibilities as the next Emperor and making good with the other heirs. Hubert and Ferdinand are focused on her, one more so than the other, and the Empire's future. Linhardt isn't interested in personal relationships, Bernadetta won't leave her room without one of us, Petra has no clout with the other nobles as a political prisoner, and while Caspar is sweet, I wouldn't trust him to keep a flower alive.

"Dimitri is in the same situation as Eddie, only worse as one of his best friends hate him and Dedue will not tell him to think twice nor speak up around the other nobles. Ingrid does not like Dedue, and when she's not unknowingly making a low bar for how people are allowed to treat him she's berating Sylvain, who I wouldn't trust with any power if he doesn't learn to turn off all flirtations soon. Felix doesn't like people, Ashe does not do well against anyone with a higher rank than him, and Annette is kind but more focused on something else."

"Her father is a knight here," Mercedes reveals like she isn't spilling her best friend's secrets. "She is hoping to catch sight of him and confront him for leaving her and her mother in the Kingdom with practically nothing to their names."

"See," Dorothea sighs, "you already know this stuff. This is why you are the best choice to keep the Blue Lions from tearing themselves apart the moment school begins."

"I can get wanting Mercedes," Leonie breaks in. "I can even get you wanting the position," because with Dorothea not having grown up on the streets, she has options now, "but why me?"

Dorothea flicks up a finger and discreetly points, "Claude came from nowhere and has poor mannerisms for a noble. I'd be surprised if any of the nobles in the Alliance trust him. Hilda is great at making people do things for her, but in order to keep everyone from turning on each other you must be a trusted and _present_ presence in their life. She skips out or delegates enough things, people will start to lose faith. Which comes to Marianne, who's terrified of staying near a person or thing too long. Lysithea is too young to be taken seriously, and any rash acts will be labelled as childish tantrums. Ignatz has a hard time with people, while Raphael has too much of a presence, no matter how nice he is. _Don't_ get me started on Lorenz."

"Which leaves me," Leonie drawls out, "but only if you don't look at the people who didn't show up for tonight."

"And so our first goal: to make sure every person here gets into the main class."

Leonie stares hard, Mercedes asking before she can, "Why, though? What makes us more special than the others of our year?"

Dorothea takes a deep breath, looking fond yet sadly at the people in front of them, "How often do you think this happens? That people from other houses, other territories, come together and form real bonds like this? Nobles, commoners, Crests or no, not one person is out of place tonight. I don't want to lose this. I don't want this place to break what we've made here."

Mercedes takes a long look at everyone. Leonie sighs and looks to the sky, where a full moon is beginning to hang as the sun sets.

"I don't want to hurt my friends," Mercedes whispers.

"I'm not asking you to do anything to hurt them," Dorothea musters a calming smile. "I am hoping you can help them when the Church cannot."

That appears to strike a chord in the Blue Lion. Something resolves in her, makes a core. Mercedes' Crest washes over them both, and Leonie twitches as whichever same-Crest bond Dorothea has means Mercedes' bonds try to work the future Golden Deer instead.

"I'll do what I can," Leonie sighs, crossing her arms behind her head and falling back to catch the last glimpses of orange in the sky, "but I really don't have much sway. I'm pretty sure Seteth hates me on some level, so that's a low chance of getting into the class right there. I will make sure the others get in, though. If you need me to help someone, just say the word."

"Thank you," Dorothea brushes Leonie's bangs from her eyes. "If you can keep helping Linhardt for now, that's enough. He smiles more after your chats. I hope if I ever need someone to talk to, you will be there to help."

"Of course."

"Same," Mercedes says, voice airy and soft but as firm as she can get. "I will do what I can to help everyone."

Leonie lifts a fist up and chuckles when they shoot her odd looks, "You're supposed to tap your fists on mine. It's called a fist bump."

Mercedes giggles and does a soft knock. Dorothea indulges, smile splitting her face as she meets Leonie's.

Quietly, Dorothea mutters, "We've got this, ladies."

Leonie really hopes she's right.

* * *

**A/N: Leonie doesn't realize her big-wig reference goes over people's heads, Felix was tricked into teaching, and Dorothea's making a move.**

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to northernlion196, xenocanaan, Xekinor, Genin, shyguy, guisniperman, IReadNoNonsense, Eclipse130, HersheyBby,** **help, JoshuaFangurl, BlueBunnyims, Guest number 720, The One True Nobody, kalmaegi, synpitou, and Luiz Faidou for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**Claude's interlude will either be Chapter 19 or 20. Coincidentally, I finally finished my first run of the Golden Deer House. I saved it for last, which was both a great and terrible idea.**

**Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone is well and has a great day! Please take care **


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

**1**.

"Get up," Felix snaps. Lysithea growls from flat on the earth, glaring at him with fire in her eyes, but complies. Bernadetta hovers off to the side, fearful for her turn to come. "Again."

Swords clash, but it is obvious who is the stronger and more skilled between them. Lysithea holds her own, a bit longer every time. The only reason she holds her tongue is because Felix can be a good teacher when he wants to be, going over what went wrong and showcasing the weak points.

Leonie glances over at the two new arrivals, "Hey there! Didn't think you'd make it!"

Dimitri smiles, rueful, while Dedue nods his greeting. The prince glances over to the active combatants, "We were held up at a meeting. Is it… alright if we patriciate?"

"Of course." Leonie ignores the sounds of Lysithea's defeat as Felix realizes who's arrived. There's a chill sweeping over them, whether from Felix's dislike or his Crest trying to shield them from the newcomers is hard to tell. "We're focusing on swords today, but I can use a lance or gauntlets if you want someone to practice with. Bernadetta might too while she waits."

"Ah, thank you," Dimitri grins a bit more roguish, causing Leonie to raise her eyebrows. "I will go ask Bernadetta if she would like to light spar with me."

Before Leonie can give a hard _control your strength or you deal with me_ speech, Dedue calls her name, "Annette and I will be working in the greenhouse tomorrow, if you would care to join us."

"Sure!" Leonie grins, _strongly_ ignoring how Felix tells Lysithea they're done and it's Bernadetta's turn. "That sounds like fun! Should I meet you at the greenhouses, or at breakfast?"

"If you would not mind waiting for us at breakfast, that will work."

"I don't mind. I can save you both some food, if you want. The final tests for lance classes are tomorrow so there's probably going to be a worse rush than last week."

Dedue hesitates, "I think it would be better for Annette and myself to get our own meals. We both have strict limits on how much we are allowed to spend."

"Gotcha." Finally, Leonie turns around. Bernadetta's screaming and flailing is drawing a lot of attention, but the chaos of it is gaining the upper hand against Felix. Meanwhile, Dimitri and Lysithea are going over the previously taught disarming techniques for sword-lance combinations. "Do you want to partner up, warm up, or just watch for now."

Dedue smiles, stoic face softening a bit, "Would you mind if we began with swords?"

"Not at all! How much practice do you have with them?"

"About the same as His Highness."

Which Leonie quickly learns is a lie. At least Dimitri can get a grip on a sword, and both are not hopeless, but it's very obvious why Felix dislikes sword competitions with them.

**2**.

Coming back from washing her hands – Leonie gives thanks every day for the bathrooms having separate pipes from the sauna – after a successful morning in the gardens, she jogs to hurry over for a mix-group lunch, wondering if Dorothea and Mercedes had as much luck of inviting everyone as she did. Leonie had to bribe Hilda with being a pack mule for her latest market purchases, but at least her meeting with Shamir gives her a time limit on how long to be gone.

There's someone familiar coming from the opposite direction. Leonie slows and smiles, unable to help the stare.

"Hello," comes the cool tones of call-me-Yuri. "Can I help you?"

"I was going to ask you that," Leonie nods. "Are you a new student? All the others are in the exams and I haven't seen you around before."

"And you know every student."

He doesn't say it as a question, but as a dry, judging joke. Leonie shrugs, "I know there isn't a student who's completed all lance required exams. So, new or hiding?"

A startled grin escapes him, "Neither. I never finished my schooling, so I was meeting with the faculty about myself and a few friends returning this year to finish."

"Well," Leonie grins extra wide, "I hope you all decide to come. And that you'll join the Golden Deer. We're currently the smallest of the future classes, but we're crafty."

"Are you the future house leader?"

"Nah, that's Claude's job. Unofficially, of course. But I'm not even in the running."

"Oh?" Yuri tilts his head a bit, pinning her with crystalized purple eyes as his bangs part, "How so?"

"Commoner," she does little jazz hands. There's a trickle of amusement at how aback he's taken by that. "I also have no plans on running any groups anytime soon. The less paperwork, the better."

He lets out a soft breath, like a laugh. "Good luck on written assignments."

"Thanks," Leonie raises a hand in an almost wave and begins moving again. "I hope you'll join the classes!"

Yuri watches her for a bit, not knowing she catches the wistful, "Me too."

And as they part, Leonie lets the bitterness take over the fake pleasantries. Nothing in his gaze said he knew who she was. Not once did his Crest try to spike at her like when they had talked before. Not even as strangers had he asked for her name.

If she chose to care about their odd partnership, then maybe she'd let the bitterness and disappointment spread. Leonie shakes it off as something to leave behind and keep moving forward. Now, no one should know of her involvement with the magical-not-magical cup. He likely doesn't even remember making the deal.

It's only a vague curiosity, but Leonie wonders just who he tried to tell about her.

**3**.

At the sound of voices, Leonie rolls her head a bit against the wall, pushing off it to cross her arms and cock her hip. _Unimpressed_.

That fades quickly as the young woman straightens, arms falling and best awed expression she can pull off while facing one of Rhea's most trusted Knights.

"Hey kid," Catherine, wielder of the Hero's Relic Thunderbrand, greets with a beaming smile. "This the one you're taken with, Shamir?"

A rare, small, darkly pleased smile comes and goes from the shadows around the once-mercenary, "She is. Leonie, Catherine is my partner instructor of the Officer's Academy and Knights of Serios. Whenever I can't teach, she fills in."

Leonie pumps a fist, trying to be discreet about cutting through the thick, hungry threads forcing their way around her. On her skin it almost feels of electricity, her mouth barely able to repel the static, "Nice to meet you! I look forward to learning under you both!"

There are words being said that she can't understand. Not completely. The tone around her is something that tries to say, _I like you, want to assist you_.

"Yah," Catherine sends Shamir an odd, almost disbelieving, glance,"I look forward to seeing what you're made of. Not everyday Shamir gives a glowing endorsement." The blonde gets a scowl from her partner for that. "I'm just saying! Ah well, I'll leave you two to it. See you around, Leonie, Shamir!"

Shamir _tsks_, but nods her goodbyes. Opens the door next to her neighbor's and jerks her chin. Leonie follows and takes the offered seat, shoulders loosening now that the air isn't trying to shock her.

Shamir snorts and settles next to a desk, "Anti-Crest wards will be our first lesson. Hand out." Leonie complies and Shamir grabs it, "Hmm… Nothing. Have you ever been around old Church relics before?"

"No, sir."

"Then maybe you already figured it out…" Shamir lets go, switching for a quill. "Be careful around Catherine. You shouldn't draw attention because you don't have a Crest, but if she catches wind of what you can do then she'll sell you out to Rhea. It's the only reason the both of us are alive. Catherine can see Crest bonds, I can feel them. How about you?"

Leonie keeps smiling, but it's cautious. A slow look around the room with raised eyebrows.

"All the private quarters are built with privacy seals," Shamir drawls. "We can hear out, no one can hear in unless I deactivate it."

"Mind if I place my own?"

Shamir sighs, face neutral, and gestures her to do it. Leonie meanders around the room, placing eight stones, layering the one-way _Silence_ just inside the magic of the other spells.

"I can see them if I change my eyesight," Leonie admits, sitting backdown, unblinking, "and partially feel them. Since coming here, I have begun to taste and smell them." _And when they are stones, I can start to hear them_.

Shamir takes time to process this. A long minute of quiet stretches, broken when the woman leans back to stare at the ceiling. Finally, "The most I have heard is a person gaining two senses towards Crests. I can only hope this evolution is because you aren't connected to anything yet, however it is unlikely. What do you mean you can change eyesight?"

_Blink_.

There is one strand wrapped around Shamir's ankles, wrists and neck. _Shackles and a noose, or strings to hold her up?_

_Blink_.

"Alright," Shamir is as deadpan as she's known for. "Never do that where people can see you. How did you learn to do that?"

"Captain Jeralt," Leonie throws him under the metaphorical bus. "I always wondered where he learned it from. It makes sense now. He used to be the captain of the Knights of Serios."

Shamir slow blinks. "Okay. So he would have taught you a few things. That also explains your fighting style. A lot of your move set mirrors the Knights of Serios. Where did you learn unarmed combat?"

"Fighting the bears in the forest around my village."

A slow intake, "Who taught you buffs?"

"Oh, I learned those myself. Lots of trial and error-"

"Stop," Shamir commands, slightly lost in thought. Leonie quiets and watches. The woman puts a quill down on paper, sliding both over. "Write down all of your buffs. I need to know what I'm working with."

Leonie doesn't write them all down, but does list her common use. _Diverter, Blocker, Speed, Strength, Silence_. _Lightweight, Heavyweight, Durability, Accuracy, _and_ Eagle Eye_. She hesitates, and then changes the starting line for _Invisibility_ into _Heal_. She slides it back, and after barely a moment of reading Shamir demands to know the specifics of each one. After Leonie describes, Shamir names the Dagda equivalent.

_Speed_ is _Quickstep_, _Strength_ is _Forceful_ _Contact_, because no one would dare use them longer than a step, move, or two because of the toll on the body. _Silence_ is equivalent to a Dagda spell meaning quiet in Fódlan's language.

Shamir says nothing for the _Lightweight_, _Heavyweight_, and _Durability_ buffs after their explanation. Appears very impassive, in fact. Explains that _Accuracy_ and _Eagle_ _Eye_ are normally one buff for projectile users: _Sharpshooter_.

The self-heal is something apparently anyone with a bare minimum of Faith can accomplish, with varying results.

Finally, Shamir asks – demands of – Leonie, "Have you ever used these on other people?"

And Leonie responds, "Only _Heal_."

Besides Alistair, she's only ever used it on others for small injuries.

_Because magical healing is frightening and dangerous._

Shamir nods, "There are normally two different fields the people of Dagda use to classify magic wielders. Personal and Ranged. Every buff, spell, and ward can be used in the categories; however, a magic user excels in using it on themselves or on others. From what you've described and how you used these, you would be classified as a Personal magic user. From everything you have here," she taps the paper, "it makes more sense how you've gone this long without a Crest bonding to you. Or re-bonding.

"I am a Personal magic user, which will help as we adjust your magic use. It will be promising if you hold a healthy weight by the end of the week, but I won't get my hopes up. I need to get a better sense on your ranged magic; our goal will be to have you master Nosferatu before the end of the month. That way, if you ever find yourself overexerting magic, you can steal some from your opponents. We start tomorrow. You and Cyril will be learning it together.

"For now, we're going back for a small history lesson. You have ways to stop Crest bonds from forming to you, but I can tell from touching you that you have broken bonds. Someone you knew must have died, and it shattered something in you, correct?"

…_Don't think about it,_ "Yes sir."

"Is there anyone here you haven't thought about killing?"

"…"

"The broken bonds are not the only reason why you feel this way. A lot of people keep moving until they can't, husks of their former selves. The fact you are functioning without something to tether you to society means you are of a rare few who are biologically made to withstand the power of Crests."

Except, Leonie knows she is very much _not_.

"In Dagda," Shamir's lips press together for a moment, a flash of pain crossing, "before the war, it was tradition for children to be born in rooms that forbid Crested people from entering. They would stay in this room or under protections like it until they could roll, where a charm would be placed on them, allowing them to be removed without the risk of tying themselves to someone with a Crest."

Shamir taps her necklace, "I have only ever bonded twice. Once with my best friend and partner, and once with Rhea. As a Personal magic user, I was hired constantly as protection against the Empire's forces. When my partner was killed, I became a husk of the person I was until Rhea pulled me back from the brink."

The woman sighs and leans away from her captive audience, "It is now illegal to bar a Crested person anywhere in Dagda. The Archbishop encourages those trained and blessed by the Church to be in the delivery room. And the Empire…"

Shamir sucks in a hash breath, shaking her head, "I am getting off topic. The point is, someone from Fódlan's with no bonds should be an impossibility. Within the next century, it will be unlikely anyone from Brigid or Dagda will be free of bonds. All knowledge of it was outlawed by the Church lifetimes ago, and the Empire burned anything they found on it. If anyone finds out what you are on top of your skills, it is a toss up if you'll be made to swear to the Church or be killed on the spot. I'll be killed for teaching you, so I would _appreciate_ discretion on all of this."

Leonie nods slowly, having to ask, "Do you know anything about the Almyrans?"

Shamir's grin is a bare of teeth, "Only that they are incapable of accepting Crest bonds. Cyril is one of the very, _very_ few who have ever done so. If that information gets out, I will kill you myself."

**4**.

"Before you go," Shamir twirls her quill, "would you happen to know anything about the Phantom of the Monastery?"

"No sir."

"Probably for the best," cold, purple eyes watch the younger woman. "With how quiet it's been, Seteth has ordered the search off. If whoever they were, were to come back, then the Archbishop will likely get involved."

Leonie feigns innocence, wondering if Shamir knows she's thinking about stabbing her, "Really? Did they do something serious?"

"Apparently they damaged an old relic. I wasn't privy to the details, but with the prison escape coinciding with their disappearance, I think there is more then grounds for the extra force."

"Oh my," Leonie feels her smile twitch. She's working hard not to let it stretch too far. "Well, hopefully they can get caught. Damaging the Church's relics is paramount to treason, isn't it? That's what it says in-"

"It's in the scripture," Shamir cuts off. "A little too wordy for my taste, but yes. If they do come back, be careful not to draw attention to yourself. The last thing we need is Rhea getting close to you."

Leonie feels the edges of apprehension, "Is she a sensor, too?"

"Worse, she has a Major Crest and knows how to use it. That will be our next lesson. Now get out."

**5**.

"Why do you look so down?" Leonie nudges Ignatz, pulling his attention from the blank canvas. She points over to where her practice designs are being torn apart by their fellow students and the art club's seamstresses and tailors. "We got Lysithea _and_ Marianne in here. Hey, I even got Dorothea and Mercedes to agree to come when I finally design something acceptable. It's not because Hilda isn't here, right? She refused to come-"

"No, no," he assures her. "It isn't that. I'm just…"

Then he visibly steels himself, reigning in all nerves and forcing his shoulder back. Leonie keeps frozen in her seat, unsure if he wants her to move back or lean closer. His is a look of pulling teeth, trying to get the words out. When they do, they're softer, quiet. But as Leonie processes them, it doesn't make the icy feeling go away.

"I heard- I heard what… Lauza and the others were saying," while the words take a herculean effort for him to say, it takes the same strength to keep her smile in place against the spikes of betrayal. "When you were all in the storage room. I- does- does that happen… I mean, I guess I'm lucky to have a room with Claude and Lorenz. I don't… are you okay?"

Leonie clasps her hands in her lap, nails leaving marks in her skin as she _breathes_. "Where were you hiding?"

He flinches, as if struck. "I- a statue just to the right of the door."

"I can understand why you didn't speak up," as she speaks, the air feels hollow in her chest for all it sounds considerate. "Is everything alright with you and Raphael in regards to Gregory and-"

"Yes!" he blurts. "Everything is fine! They've been great, really. Even… even for a second son like me."

Leonie rolls her eyes, "You're not just a second son. You're apart of one of the most well-connected merchant chains in Fódlan. You're a great artist, and you have the makings of a great knight. Don't let people put you down. Are they putting you down?"

"No," he hangs his head. "Most people don't talk to me."

"That can always change," she reminds him. "Sit next to someone different when you come into the art room. That's a good start."

"…You're right. Thank you, Leonie."

"Anytime."

And with the topic successfully diverted, Ignatz picks up his paint brush and begins to draw the room. Leonie turns to her own rough sketches, feeling another spike of bitterness at how he didn't press. It is her own fault, switching the focus to him so she doesn't have to lie and say _it's fine_ or _it's been taken care of_.

_He's still young_, she forcefully reminds herself. _He'll learn_.

Ignatz will have to if he wants to make any success in the world off of others.

**6**.

"So, uh," and just like that, the laxed attitude of two people watching the beginner's axe tournament breaks into something awkward, on Raphael's end at least, "Ignatz said he talked to you about Lauza yesterday."

Leonie can't help the sigh, a _thunk_ sounding as her head hits the pillar, "He said he overheard our 'conversation'. Wait," _because Ignatz isn't confident in himself yet_, "did you tell him to talk to me?"

"Well, yah," Raphael laughs awkwardly. "When he told me what was wrong, I said we needed to make sure you were okay. Now that we know the problem, we'll look out for you!" He beams, unaware of the bit of relief creeping through Leonie's naturally muted emotions. "He said he forgot to ask if you wanted us to all have a talk. Maybe get Claude or Lorenz or Hilda to speak with her. And we know other people in the other Houses. Ingrid or Caspar or, hey, even Dimitri! And Bernadetta might say something if you ask. If you want some support going to them, we're here for you!"

Leonie has to pinch her skin to draw away from the clinical thoughts threatening to ruin the moment. Has to push down, _thanks, but I can deal with it_, because Raphael is one of those good people who doesn't need the brush off. Her smile grows a little as she meets his gaze, "Thank you. It will be fine, they haven't done anything to me since they confronted me," _expect spread a few rumors, but commoner hate has not gained momentum with everyone stressing about their futures right now_, "but I will let you know if something happens again. Has anyone done anything to you?"

"Maybe?" he laughs uncertainly. "I've had a few people say some odd things to me, but I haven't given it much thought. I'll try to pay more attention to what they mean, but I don't always get this noble-speak, you know?"

"I know," Leonie groans. "Why can't they just say what they mean?"

"Right?!"

There is a very faint scent of fish before their future house leader appears, "Hey guys, what'd I miss?"

"Morning, Claude," Leonie drawls, eyeing the elbows he's resting on their shoulders, peering between them. She gives an obvious sniff. "Don't tell me you worked at the docks in your uniform."

"Yes, why?"

Raphael laughs while Leonie rolls her eyes, "Just, talk to Hilda about getting some perfume. Whatever you washed with did _not_ get the smell out."

**7**.

"Morning Edelgard, Hubert!"

"Good morning again, Leonie," the princess smiles coyly. "How was your run?"

"Pretty good," if one ignores the cats beginning to run alongside her on the walls. "I've really felt the results of it, but I'm trying not to get too complacent. When I feel confident, I may try running to the lower village and back."

The future Emperor's eyebrows shoot up, "That is quite the goal. Are you going to try it before the class training begins?"

"Oh right, that is coming soon," Leonie settles against the pillar, watching the tournament students warm up. "Thanks for reminding me! It's hard to believe the month is almost over."

"Hmm, yes," Hubert drawls with a mixture of malice and disdain. "Soon we will begin learning from the _accomplished_ professors so _gratefully_ employed by Church of Serios."

Edelgard looks exasperated, "Hubert…"

"I do believe Ms. Pinelli will understand my disposition," he doesn't blink, almost ready to strike like a snake. Waiting for her move. "After all, she does have a rather tumultuous history with Manuela. Why, I would guess Hanneman has paid her even less attention than myself."

"'_She'_ is right here, and yes, Hubert, I get your point to an extent," Leonie doesn't falter, doesn't cross her arms or drop a smile. She is as relaxed as possible in the face of a poisonous predator. "They are not the only professors, just the ones qualified to reside over the classes. I've had a great talk with Professor Maence, and even got a few words with half the faculty. I'm looking forward to learning from them. You can never know too much."

"Well said," Edelgard is still glaring at her retainer. "I, for one, am looking forward to the upcoming year. I would not mind for either magic expert to be our class's overseer." She turns back to Leonie, forcing a smile. "Do you know who the third professor will be?"

Leonie's already shaking her head before the teen finishes, "I don't think the Church has chosen. They only need to find someone to fill in for authority and hand-to-hand specific training, so probably someone noble? You and the other house leaders will probably know before I do."

Her head itches for a moment, trying to pull up a memory buried deep. Leonie's distracted by the overwhelming feeling of hot and cold before she can even try to remember. Claude throws an arm over her should, "Hey Edelgard, Hubert. I didn't think you'd be here until tomorrow."

"Claude," Edelgard greets cordially. "I thought it best to observe the levels of one of my natural skills. We all must go through the steps in order to become masters, after all."

His arm drops, but Claude doesn't move away, "You're going to love this then. Apparently, there hasn't been a permanent axe teacher in decades. Everyone is supposed to go to Seteth or the Captain of the Knights for questions, but since they're so busy no one has been correcting them properly."

"We figured out the difference between Alliance, Empire, and Kingdom axe bearings yesterday," Leonie throws in while he takes a breath. "If you want a real teacher, you'll have to ask around the knights. Gilbert is the best, but he only teaches those from the Kingdom, the-" she swears.

Hubert looks ready to tear her apart, while Edelgard is taken aback. Claude laughs, "Between you and Hilda, I'm sure someone will look after the Golden Deer."

Leonie's '_Excuse me_?!' goes unheard by Edelgard's frown and, "Thank you for alerting me to this. We will begin looking for a suitable tutor for our peers."

"Of course, princess," he winks. "We wouldn't want to have an advantage over you in the mock battle, after all."

Leonie covers the hole Claude's digging himself by interrupting Edelgard before she can retort, "Oh look! They're starting. Let's see if you two can pick up the differences in styles."

**8**.

"This is so uncute," Hilda grumbles, carried in Leonie's arms with an adorable pout. "You two owe me so much for this."

"Why?" Leonie laughs, cutting it off before the sharpness bleeds through. "Half of the academy think's I'm a guy, and it wouldn't be the first time you had to be carried because of a 'sore' ankle."

"But you're so scrawny," Hilda complains. "I can't compliment you on your muscles and get you to do this again just because you feel like showing off. You always want me to _do_ something for your help."

"That is just good business sense," Claude comments. He hasn't stopped grinning since Leonie swept the teen off her feet. "You should really practice with us more. You'll never know when faking an injury won't work."

"Oh, I will know just fine," Hilda huffs. "You two are just too hard to read. I will find the thing that gets you to help me for free."

Leonie smiles around clenched teeth, "That's called blackmail."

"You call it blackmail, I call it secret weapon."

Claude holds the door for them, "You would have to stop procrastinating to look for something."

"Oh, please," Hilda pouts some more as she's placed on her feet. "Just because I don't run around like everyone else doesn't mean I don't do work."

"Hilda's gossip connections are amazing," Leonie reluctantly admits.

"Excuse you, I-" Hilda cuts off and makes a face. "Ugh. I was hoping they would not be here."

They follow her gaze to Edelgard and Hubert, Claude wondering, "Do you really not like them?"

"I am not fond of them," Hilda admits, "though it is not like I dislike them. Our social circles do not intermingle often. That, and they have done nothing to search for Monica."

Leonie bites her tongue, elbowing Claude before he can say anything to piss the pinkette off. They already sold their afternoon to practice tea times and play makeup artist with her. While he wheezes, the young woman politely asks, "Will you be alright keeping peace for a few hours in their presence?"

"Actually," Hilda hums, "I see Penelope and Win. I will come back to you guys during the finals. Bye."

Claude finishes coughing, glaring at Leonie, "What was that for?"

"I think she had a crush on Monica and I don't want to set her off."

He startles, "A- a crush? As in, Hilda was falling in love with…?"

Leonie doesn't understand the look on her face, but nods, "Well, yah. I mean, I'm not certain. But a lot of times Hilda looked to Monica like she hung the moon and stars. Or whatever the saying is."

"Oh," Claude is grinning, but everything about him feels cold. "Okay. Guess I just never noticed."

"I mean…" Leonie eyes him, "I could be wrong?"

"No, no, it makes sense now."

"Claude," she stops him before they make their way over to the others. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he replies, and she snags his wrist.

"Try again."

He watches her hand for a moment before nodding slowly, meeting her eyes while his Crest slowly begins poking. "Alright, not _fine_ fine. Maybe a bit shocked. I did _not_ see that coming. How desperate she'd been? It makes sense. If it was h- if it was someone I loved, I'd be worried if they disappeared like that too."

"Okay," Leonie releases. He flexes his wrist. "If you need some time alone or-"

"No, I've got this." His smile looks more real, but his eyes are a cold, distant green. "Let's go watch the tournament." When she stares a bit longer, he adds, "Please."

Leonie sighs, "Let me know if you need an out."

For a second, his grin really does look real.

**9**.

In the area between the makeshift dorms for future students, archery targets line up and down the grassy field, while in the training hall the gauntlet tournament is going full force.

"This seems unfair," Ignatz mutters from beside Leonie. The whole future Golden Deer class is out watching the students shoot. "What if you only have an ability in archery?"

"That is why it is extra credit, Ignatz," Lorenz replies, but he too is frowning. For all the targets, only a handful are being used. Most of the students are taking their final exams for anything with an axe skill needed or studying for the last round of tests. Tomorrow will be for the gauntlet and bow classes.

Leonie risks a glance over to their next house leader. Claude looking more serious than she's ever seen, a few feet of distance between him and the others. An arrow thunks, drawing her back to the scene. The Leicester Alliance is known for producing competent archers. Over two thirds of the participants are from the Golden Deer class.

The system is rigged against them, and every single student here knows it.

To lighten the mood a bit, Leonie asks, "Can anyone shoot upside-down?"

"What?" Hilda asks.

In the corner of her eye, Claude's turned to them. Leonie continues, "Upside-down? I used to practice hanging from tree branches by my knees and shooting targets. I tried flipping off a tree once to see if I could do it in the air, but that was a terrible idea."

"Why would you do that?" Lorenz asks, interested.

"You never know when you might need it, right?" she grin brightly, meeting everyone's gaze. "And it's a really good party trick if you ever want to impress someone."

That gets some laughs and groans. The bad mood breaks, future students turning to each other and explaining some interesting things they've done or practiced over the years. Claude stays out of it, but he's smiling when he turns back to the field.

For all the nobles' fancy tutors and training, it's Ignatz and Raphael who have the best stories to tell.

**10**.

"Get up," Felix demands. Lysithea grits her teeth and complies. They're both smiling, her lasting longer and longer each round. "Again."

"Wait," Lysithea demands. Felix pauses. "Leonie, I want the sword!"

Leonie pauses from taking Bernadetta's lance blows, "What was that?"

"The sword! I want to use the one I was using before!"

Both ladies look at her like she's crazy, "The kaboom one?!"

"Yes!"

"Why?!"

"Trust me."

And with a crazed a grin as that, Leonie reluctantly does. She does a quick run inside to make it look like she got it from their room. Holds it out to the teen, "Don't. Break. It."

Lysithea huffs and makes _give me_ motions. Leonie carefully hands it over, scooting back to where Bernadetta is watching wide eyes.

"Okay," Lysithea demands her sparring partner's attention, "Now I'm ready."

Felix nods and leaps forward, making the first blow. Lysithea blocks and sweets, shifting her grip after the miss.

The wood of the training sword begins to go an intertwining black and white.

Felix doesn't let it startle him, instead pressing hard. Lysithea gasps and nearly a minute later has the sword ripped from her grip. The colours fade, part of the grass only flattened by sword. A brilliant smile breaks on the loser's face.

"What was that?" Felix demands.

"An idea," Lysithea grins, rolling over to grabs the sword and hand to back to Leonie. She takes the plain training sword back, going to Felix, "What if we could combine our magic with weapons."

He isn't impressed, "There are already-"

"I know there are magical weapons out there," Lysithea cuts him off, brave and coming off a research bend. "But combining our own magic to our weapons. Making them magical as long as we use them. I don't know enough about other weapons to do it to them, but Leonie's got the workings of one on a sword. I've been looking at the design and I think I know how to do it. Let me practice while we train. Please."

Felix's cool gaze only leaves Lysithea's once, glaring at her for disrupting whatever training plan he made with her idea, "I don't know any spells, or enough Reason and Faith magic to make sure you are not harming yourself. If you do wish to try and channel your magic through a sword, then that piece of training will be all on you. I will not have it interfere with my teachings."

"Agreed," Lysithea says, holding out her free hand.

Felix scoffs but shakes, "Go practice your idea. We will not spar until you are sure it will not harm either us or the swords. Bernadetta, your turn!"

Leonie's so proud that the teen doesn't run when she's shouted at. Now, to make sure Lysithea isn't doing something dumb.

* * *

**A/N: School hasn't started but people are learning.**

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to xenocanaan, HersheyBby (JoshuaFangurl), Eclipse130, AdamasintheRough, Real HersheyBby (HersheyBby), BlueBunnyims, DestructionDragon360, shyguy, Guest, TheGiantRock, Luiz Faidou, Guest number 720, and Wailorde for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**Random question: Who's the old man character in Three Houses? Jeralt isn't recruitable, Gilbert isn't completely recruitable, Alois has a family, and while Hanneman is grey in his 50s, Seteth is older than all of them. Maybe I'm just over thinking it. **

**Like Chapters 8 & 9, it didn't feel right to post the next chapter by itself. I know not everyone likes interludes, so if you want to skip the next chapter it's not a problem. Anything related to the plot will eventually be brought up in the main story. Which leads me to… even with all of my editing, cuts, and changes, the next chapter is sitting at +40,000 words. Please remember to eat, sleep, and take breaks if you decide to read it. It's probably closer to a recap, but I still hope people enjoy reading it. **

**Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone is well and has a great day! Please take care **


	19. Chapter 19 - Interlude

Chapter Nineteen – Interlude

**0**.

His name is Khalid.

It's also Claude.

He knows it the same way one knows to breathe. He knows it from birth, even if he does not understand what a name is. Does not understand the world or who he is or what he'll become.

Khalid.

Claude.

_The_-

**1.2**

On the twenty-fourth of the Blue Sea Moon – _July_ – the seventh prince and thirteenth child of the Almyran royals is born. His father names him Khalid. His mother swears to never go through this again.

The woman once called Tiana von Riegan can guess why this took a toll on her, but she doesn't dare voice it. Never wants to confirm it.

The boy's green eyes are more than enough of a reminder.

_Once more, he cries_.

**1.5**

At two years old, Khalid knows he is odd compared to his half brothers and sisters. The other children, the palace guards, the caretakers… no one wants to play with him. He spends most days with his mother, another odd thing as the other kids rarely see their mothers and fathers during the day. It is okay though, because his mother is always talking with others and letting him watch the fights and a lot of time, she joins in. His mother beats up everyone who challenges her. She is the best.

Khalid is also smarter than most and knows a lot of people frown when he talks to his in-vi-si-ble friends because in Al-my-ra adults does not like kids talking to people they cannot see. His mother says it is fine. So Khalid talks to them.

There is nervous and smart Ignatz. He helps Khalid learn code and to put numbers together. Ignatz has things on his face to help him see. He says they are glasses, but Khalid thinks they look nothing like cups. No one in his father's palace wears them, so he can't ask what they are in his language.

Raphael is Ignatz's best friend. He teaches Khalid about healthy workouts and tells the best stories about food and helping people and his little sister Maya. Khalid wants to be tall and strong like him one day! His muscles are bigger than his mother and father's!

Khalid doesn't like talking with Lorenz as much. He likes to lecture about manners and utensils and nobility. When he asked his mother, she laughed and told him it doesn't matter! So now Lorenz teaches him poetry and magic fundamentals. Still boring, but it's better than walking with books on his head.

He doesn't really like Lysithea all that much either. She likes to call him a child whenever she's there. She doesn't come often. She'll tell him stories on magic, and draw wards and spells in the air. Tells him he needs to get better with faith, but he doesn't understand what she means.

Marianne is nice, but will only come during quiet moments. She tells him stories about all the animals she's friends with and teaches him how to approach horses and wyverns. No one understands how the meanest beasts in the stable let him sleep there, and he's not telling her secrets. He promised.

Khalid thinks he loves Hilda. She had pink hair and pink eyes and is kind-of lazy but is super strong. Strong enough she could probably beat his mother. She comes the most of everyone, telling him about ideas she's had for change or trying to boss him around. Her ideas do not work very well with what he overhears about the villages, but if anyone could make people change it is her. Even if she doesn't understand the people around Khalid, she can speak the language fluently.

Besides Hilda, none of his friends really understand the people around Khalid… except for Leonie. She never appears by herself and will translate for the others if Khalid does not get the words. She is always blunt, but gives apologies if it made his insides hurt or his eyes sting. She says things no one really understands sometimes, jokes only she gets. He's not sure how to feel about her. She is the only one to say that this is all in his head, and she didn't come back when he told her to leave. He's accepted her apology, but she still hasn't appeared with anyone again.

Khalid is two years old with imaginary friends and, one night after a meal where his father was kissing another mother, Khalid tells his own mother that he wants to marry Hilda.

Helping him ready for bed, Tiana laughs, "Your friend?"

Khalid nods, smiling, "Hilda Goneril. She-"

But he finds he can't talk, head snapping to the side. The echo of the slap lingers. His mother has switched from beautiful to frightening, her hand still raised. It _hurts_.

"Do not say that name," his mother heaves her breaths. "Never say that name again. Okay?"

"M-"

"_Okay?!"_

"Yes," Khalid cries, tears falling. "I understand!"

His mother leans away, still in her scary mode. She nods shortly and stands. "Your friends- your imaginary friends. You are never to speak of them again. If I hear another word of them, you will not to be at dinner for a week."

Meals are the only time he sees his family, dinner is the only time they are all together. Khalid quickly nods and stays silent as his mother leaves. His cries are as quiet as he can make them as he struggles into bed. He hugs a pillow to his face and _screams_.

Leonie is there when he looks up. His voice trembling, "What do you want?"

She watches him for a while, watches his stinging cheek, "When I was a kid, a man broke my jaw because I talked too much."

He thinks he remembers the story even if he doesn't _remember_, "Ouch."

"Yah," she shrugs. "Do you want me to get someone else?"

But he remembers his mother's words, and they dig deeper then the need to see Hilda. He only thinks he loves her. He loves his mother. He has to. She is the only real thing he has. "No I, I can't. I can't."

"Okay," Leonie answers like it is that simple. "If you can't, you can't. Do you want me to stay?"

He nods hesitantly.

So she does, but not long because Leonie never appears without someone else. She is gone before he can sleep, and in his dreams he can talk with his friends without worry. The only issue is that he can never remember the dreams when he wakes up. Nothing more than a flash of pink hair or a call for his name.

Hilda and Leonie have always swapped between calling him Claude and Khalid. To everyone else who speak the weird language and talk of magic like it's common, they call him Claude.

When he wakes up, everyone calls him Khalid. He is two years old and stops talking to imaginary friends.

Eventually, he stops remembering them as well.

**1.6**

Khalid is three years old and about to get a new sibling. He knows this because his mother and the other mothers told him. He knows one of his father's bedpartners has been screaming somewhere in the palace, that she is going to become a mother soon too. His own mother keeps close whenever new siblings arrive. She does not like it when he leaves her reach.

Since the slap, he has noticed the others getting physical punishments too. His older siblings getting whacked or thrown into a ring to fight out anger and problems. He notices his mother grips too tight sometimes, that his father is rough to all his children no matter the age. He once saw the Queen draw blood after reprimanding a server at the monthly dinner in her palace.

There is something in his body that doesn't sit right with it. Something that tells him, _this is wrong_. But Khalid is three years old and does not understand anything different. He just tries not to squirm when the odd feelings rush over or settle in him.

There is a knock on the door. After a few words, his mother has him scooped up and they're moving quickly. When he tries to ask where, she shushes him. When they enter a room with a bad smell, she makes him swear to never tell anyone what happens here. She tells him they will go to the bonfire tonight if he promises to never say a word.

Khalid loves the bonfire, even if others shy away from them or refuse to let them in the circle of cheering and dancing. He agrees and watches, biting his lip to keep silent as his mother flurries around the room. He is too small to see, but apparently his new half-sister in on the table.

From the sobbing and mutterings of the new mother, the little girl is deaf. Khalid is three years old, but he knows what that means. She will go to the orphanage, and if no one adds her to their family then she will join in the border fighting. He watches the table with a frown as the servants and nurses cower under his mother's words, as the new mother begs for a fix.

His mother agrees to 'getting someone over here' while everyone is sworn to secrecy. Like with his own birth, their father will not be by to see the child until he wants to. Then, he will name her. Same as all of his other children.

Khalid is one of the few allowed to see his new sister, even though he cannot tell anyone. Like the others, she doesn't really like him, but then again she sleeps most of the time so he has trouble staying interested in her. A few days after her birth, he is letting her play with his fingers when his mother sneaks in a man wearing very strange clothing. Then he's on the table, holding his little sister steady as the man casts real, powerful magic.

Khalid's always known it was real, but seeing it is another matter. His focus is then quickly taken by his little sister, who has the most interesting expression as she hears for the first time. He doesn't think he's ever seen it before.

She giggles and smiles when he giggles back.

**1.7**

Some days, Khalid likes his dreams more than his waking life. Even if he never remembers them, he remembers what it's like to feel wanted.

He sits in the classroom where a few of his brothers and sisters learn with the Queen's children. Here, a few people are nice to him. Mostly the professors, who while not really calm or patient do know a variety of teaching styles. They make the kids get along or be quiet when told to, either through competition or threats. Claude, unfortunately, has a hard time staying silent or still. He has energy for days and questions that are hard to get out, leading to more than one incident of dangling out a window or dragged to answer questions by the ear.

Khalid gets used to corporal punishment, even if it makes his insides feel all wrong and angry. He'll do his best to run, but he's not fast enough. He tries his best to fight, but he's not strong or skilled enough. Then he gets smart; hides when he needs to or plays dumb where he used to snap back. Khalid learns his way around the halls while the others have snacks or breaks.

Only the Queen's children talk to him, at least those who aren't mad someone younger than them is already taking lessons. Their mother and fathers haven't warned them away from the demon queen's spawn. After the initial disdain, they talk to him when he needs help. They play with him when they need the extra number.

He does not understand what it means to settle. Does not understand the sour taste in his mouth when he's chosen last; Khalid is just happy to be chosen at all.

He is a cheeky little brat.

But he has to be.

If it's not the frowns thrown his way, then it is people not paying him attention. The worst part is that he does not understand why. Why does he crave attention, and why do they treat him different than the others?

Some nights, when the moon is full and he has too much energy and he _cannot sleep_, Khalid wipes away tears as he tries to understand.

**1.8**

The day after the annual challenge for the thrones, Khalid is introduced to the man his father beat into the dirt.

"Nader will be your combat instructor," the King of Almyra clasps his son shoulder, the kid's flinch going unnoticed. "He is one of the best generals we have, great with paperwork too. So if you need tutoring in that, go to him."

Scars marring his face and a dirt-smeared beard, something in Khalid's chest swirls. Mixed feelings as he smiles and holds out a hand as custom, "Nice to meet you!"

Behind the men, Khalid's mother smiles like a proud cat. Nader laughs and, surprising them all, gets down to one knee to shake, "You as well, kiddo."

Khalid wants to like him. He really does.

But the boy has trust issues from years of hurts and the new teacher is forcing his smile. There's something that he's missing _still_. Besides this man losing for the position of King. Besides the obvious punishment for even trying. Khalid knows, even if he doesn't understand, that there is something about him this man hates.

Just another adult judging him without getting to know him.

**1.9**

Everything – all the training, all the sleepless nights, all the aches – is worth it the moment he holds a bow. It's all worth it the moment he lets an arrow fly and it hits the center of the target. For once in a very, very long time, Khalid feels _right_. Comfortable and proud. The second shot isn't as perfect, but he'll practice until his fingers bleed if he must. It is something he is a natural at, and no one can take away or tell him to hide it.

Nader clasps his shoulder and praises him, something softer in his eyes. Something proud.

It's something Khalid wishes his parents have in their expressions when they look at him.

**2.1**

He learns it in history class with the others.

"But, _why_?" asks his older half sister, a girl who would rather learn to snap spines than make friends, but they're all curious about the _enemies_. "They can't possibly keep organized with three ruling territories!"

"That's just how it is," explains their teacher, pointing to the three areas on a crudely drawn map. "We know very little about the people of Fódlan, however our spies have discovered that each territory answers to their religious faction, a dedicated group who worships a single Goddess called Sothis."

There is more outcry from the students, Khalid letting out an exclamation with them. _One Goddess?_ _How does that work?_

Khalid doubts a lot of things. Fate. Destiny. Higher Powers. He's grown up in a culture where a lot of people pick one or two deities to pray to, but nothing showy or intertwined with the country's functions. Temples let people pray to whoever they need to, alters or bonfires let them offer whatever they choose. To him, a country answering to a religious faction is as unheard as splitting a country into different ruling bodies. He has grown up with Almyra's politics. A King and a Queen, the strongest of the two is in charge of the people while the defeated in charge of the military.

Fódlan is strange. An Empire ruled by an Emperor, someone selected by their country's only archbishop. A Kingdom ruled by a King, someone born into the role. The oddest of all, an Alliance of smaller territories joining forces to make a larger territory within the country. Each noble has a piece, a seat, a place. Khalid finds himself very interested in this last territory, the only one which borders on Almyra. The idea of people getting along, standing together-

"What do the people look like?" asks his older half brother.

Their teacher answers, "Like you and I, however they do have more variety in hair and eye colours. If you want to see what a person from Fódlan looks like, go see Khalid's mother."

He freezes, mind going blank at the words and stares his siblings give. For a moment it is like he cannot breathe, the air buzzing in his ears.

His mother.

A person from Fódlan.

_The enemy._

It makes sense now. Makes him ill to process it.

Khalid wishes someone would have warned him.

**2.2**

Nader is back from the front lines with a handful of men, and there is a celebration. Singing and screaming and dancing and-

Khalid is pulled into the thick of things by his teacher.

It is a great feeling. Something he wishes would never end. His mother always stayed on the outskirts, cheering and dancing but never truly involved. It is a wild party, a grand feast, and the boy loves every minute of it.

The feeling of belonging.

It would be so nice to feel like this all the time.

**2.3**

Khalid is eight and nightmares have started full force since killing his first assassin at five years of age. He wakes up in a blind sweat and is moving before he processes it. Runs through empty corridors and hidden passages ways, skidding along the floor and bouncing off corners as silent as he can. He does not know why he is so afraid, but he knows he must check on his eldest brother _right now_.

He does not know how, but he knows his half brother is in the kitchen. Knows he cannot be caught out of bed _or else_.

He leaps out and onto the hooded figure that has just killed a few night-rotation guards.

Khalid is eight and feels like throwing up at the wrongness that spreads over his body when he kills the assassin. He doesn't stay there, doesn't check to see if there is another one, instead running for his mother's room. He crashes into Nader along the way, or more like Khalid bounces off him through his tears.

The man curses and sweeps him, jogging the sobbing boy the rest of the way. Khalid manages to get out the story to his mother, Nader, and the guards who are there. He doesn't see the looks but feels the way the room grows colder. His body pricks and tingles, the wrongness in him refusing to recede yet.

When it is just his mother and Nader, hears the man ask, "Should I increase lookouts at the border?"

"Yes," Khalid's mother snaps in her stress, pacing the lengths of the room. "And don't hold back. I don't want a single one to come here."

"Tiana-"

"This doesn't leave the room," she hisses. "They can suspect all they want, but without proof there is nothing to back. He hasn't sparred with anyone but you, right?"

"...No, but Tiana-"

Khalid jerks into watching as his mother has his instructor pinned to the floor, knife at his throat, "No. Buts."

The boy breaks the moment with a soft, "Mum?"

She draws away with one more glare at the man, face softening into what he loves of his mother. She settles next to him and sings, shushing him when he tries to say a word.

Khalid is eight and realizes there is more to the reason why Nader is his tutor, why his mother always had him near, and why he and the other kids must always travel in groups when no adult is around. He's very curious as to what it is, what they're hiding.

That bit of him that still hurts from finding out he's not a full-blooded Almyran, it hasn't forgiven his mother no matter how much he loves her. It means he questions everything, even if she shuts it down. It means he doesn't feel guilty looking for answers when she does things like this.

The wrongness is gone by morning, his eldest brother is still alive. Now, Khalid needs to find someone who will spar with him.

**2.4**

As he grows, Khalid finds himself more interested in the land his mother came from. What is it like? What are the people, cultures, and landscapes like? Three different political systems, unlike the one system setup in Almyra. The people in Fódlan are ruled by a singular person, or a group of nobles. The last time Almyra's King and Queen were married was over two centuries ago. Every year, there is a challenge offered for those who wish to prove themselves strongest. Beat the King or Queen, and you take the title. Then, beat your opposite and you control the country's inner workings. Loser is in charge of foreign affairs.

Neither Tiana nor the King could beat the Queen since she obtained the title. Not only do the King and Queen seldom get along, to marry would mean to give up their partners. If Khalid's father were to be beaten in the yearly challenge or marry someone other than Tiana, then he, his mother, and all of the others would be kicked from the palace, homeless. It is why the Kings and Queens train their children so hard. Succession comes from strength in Almyra, not by blood or blessings or votes.

The last time a King or Queen wasn't related to the previous ones was centuries ago.

On full moon nights, Khalid daydreams about being the King. Everyone tells him he isn't ready. A few tell him his mother's ancestry will keep him from the throne. Under all the negatives, the discrimination, the hate, he could have easily become vengeful. _Cruel_. Instead, Khalid becomes stubborn, hopeful, would rather see the good sides to people as he prepares for the bad.

He wants to become King. Thinks he would make it great dealing with foreign affairs, considering how the assassination attempts increased the moment of his mixed status was leaked by his teacher. The question would be, who does he want as a Queen? The current Queen's children seem alright, but very few have the woman's brains. She is able to keep the country prospering while the army continuously bashes against a wall. The overpopulation that was hinted at starting the war is either gone or hushed to where Khalid cannot hear it.

Khalid isn't sure what he wants in a Queen besides loyalty. _Oh_, he knows want he _wants_, but a loyal partner to run a country with is the only _must_. All others are concessions.

If he doesn't like their royal team up, then he'll only stay long enough to prove the naysayers wrong. There is a whole world to explore, after all. Almyra and Fódlan are only names and drawings on maps. They cannot be the only places where people live.

Khalid watches the stars and thinks of beaches he's never seen and what it would be like to become a pirate.

**2.5**

His first time going into the village is eye-opening.

Nader had to clear him for the visit, has to be with him every step. Khalid trusts this man more than his own blood family sometimes, and definitely more than the palace guards. A lot of people stare at him, as if knowing his mixed status on sight. It's unnerving, the itching under his skin ramping up with every rare sneer from his father's people if they don't immediately turn away.

There is the occasional sign or board with prices in the market, but most of it is all spoken word. Khalid learns fast to recognize items by sight, to memorize the words to practice later. It is very different from the palace. A whole other world unto itself, where reading and writing does not matter. What does is the value of the item to you and the trader. Gold trades hand, but more often than not it is materials being swapped. Sword for a crate of fruits. A beautiful dress for a horse.

Nothing is free.

"Here we are," Nader says, pushing the starry-eyed child forward. "You wanted to play? Well, go ask them."

Khalid grins at the easy permission and runs forward.

**2.6**

The few children do let him play with them, though they are obviously wary at first. It is not the clothing, nor Nader or anything he can think of. He has lighter skin than most, but it still isn't uncommon. The way he speaks is as loose as theirs, none of the palace refinement. He copies the way they move and how they act, and yet still other stranger children are being opened up to more than he is.

There is a buzz in his blood the more he tries to reach out and get a sense for them. Until he stops, and the itch goes away and their postures relax however slightly.

Maybe he's trying too hard.

But something in Khalid believes it isn't from overreaching, and he cannot ask with the eyes and ears everywhere.

He just needs to find who has the answers, all the while asking himself what he's prepared to do to get them.

**2.7**

Because Khalid doesn't stop badgering about it, Nader gets him a magic teacher instead of learning it himself to teach. This goes for all of one sparring lesson, in which Tiana comes charging across the field to argue on what her son is doing. The yelling devolves into a fistfight, where Tiana stands victorious not unlike a moment Khalid remembers. She then storms over, tosses her son over her shoulder, and says she'll teach him magic or no one will.

Khalid learns about Belief and Faith. He learns how magic is frowned upon in Almyra. He learns how a very select few in the country will ever show the spark necessary for it, and that if they are not picked up and brought to the Queen's magical school then they likely grow up full of hatred and destroy towns and villages before they burn out.

He asks why they grow up to be evil. She doesn't know why. Neither do those in the palace or the few magic users who answer his question.

He feels like he might know, but it could just be wishful thinking. His mother promises he has the spark, but he hasn't seen any proof yet. Until then, Khalid is just like the rest of the population in this sense.

He isn't sure how that makes him feel.

**2.8**

He sneaks into the Queen's palace only once, a feeling of wrongness dusting his skin. Khalid puts it off as nerves and settles behind the curtains, watching the magic class commence. There are maybe a dozen kids and teens of all ages and varying levels. Instead of Belief and Faith, they are taught Fire, Water, Air, Earth, Light, and Dark. They are taught combinations –water and air: mist and ice – and are given books with strange writings to channel their magical energy into physical form.

Khalid ducks back behind the fabric when the Queen arrives, the students greeting her. Everyone leaves for outside practice, except the woman. She pulls back the curtain, smile not softening a little at the boy's cheeky grin.

"Don't you have your own lessons to attend?" she asks, beckoning him out.

"I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

"Oh?"

He follows her, the guards giving him unimpressed looks, "Everyone is saying that magic is uncommon and dangerous and turns people evil. Those people aren't evil."

"They are not evil," the chilly Queen nods, leading him to a lounge room, tea made and cookies out. Khalid sits and waits for everything to be sorted before taking a bite. If it's poisoned, it isn't like any of the ones he's taken immunity training for. "Magic, by its nature, is not evil. People just hear the bad stories and treat the untrained users poorly for it."

He swallows and takes a shot in the dark, "Is that why you bring them here? Do people hurt them?"

"Yes, and yes," still no change to her expression. "I, myself, do not possess any magical ability, but my brothers and sisters did. They all ended up fighting in the war. This school has done a lot to change the stigma around magic users, but there are still places where they refuse the assistance with crops or water purification or the like. Old, deep prejudice is hard to dig out. It is my hope that by starting to train young and showing the good magic can do, our people will grow past their fear and anger and treat each other equally, no matter the abilities.

"So, Khalid, what will you do about your situation?" She tilts her head and smiles smaller. It makes her look younger, less threatening within the confusion of his mind.

"I don't know yet," he replies, but that is partly a lie. He _will_ venture to other lands one day. Get out of this situation and to a place where he is no longer sent looks of hate or disgust.

But where will that leave others in his position?

It's a lot to think about for a boy who shouldn't be carrying the weight so soon.

**2.9**

Khalid knows he gets nicked by the arrow. There is still a little bit of blood and a tear where it sliced.

But now, at the end of the archery practice – of trying to hit Nader's arrowhead-on – there is nothing. The only other injury on the field was the bird who dove into the arrow after Khalid had shot.

No one else must stay up all three full moon nights, no less tired than the day they awoke. No one else gets disgruntled – sometimes angry – looks by trying to get a sense of another person.

Only his mother can heal so quickly from an injury, but she feels tired afterwards. Khalid feels better, can last longer sparring.

There is something he is missing. With all the punishments from previous attempts to question it, he's almost afraid to keep asking.

Almost.

**3.1**

It is a story he will tell. How his father tied him to a horse and dragged him around. He doesn't say how many times it happened – more than he cares to remember – and won't say who else got the treatment – every single one of his siblings – but he will try and claim he is partially to blame. That he was a brat.

When he tells the story, it will always be played for a laugh. If someone gives him the look, the one that says _that's not right_, then he'll try to throw shade on himself. As though it was his fault he got tied to a horse and dragged over rocks and dirt things that will leave bumps and bruises.

Khalid will get better, but that is not the point.

Maybe he is a brat, maybe he is not. Still not the point.

The point is that if he cries during the punishment, they call him _weak_.

If he struggles to get away, they call him a _coward_.

That if he or his siblings are so injured they cannot get out of bed the next day, they are called _unworthy_.

In Almyra, the strong are respected. Khalid will pretend for years he isn't afraid of horses and will start to trust them only after his father's favourite mount dies. He will tell a story that was an experience where sometimes he feared for his life. Then, if no one laughs, he will act like he deserved it.

A part of him knows he does not. It is hard to listen to it when someone he loves is causing the pain, all the while his mother laughs on the sidelines.

**3.2**

The few of his siblings that tolerate him will trade favours. Khalid becomes sneaky, cunning, with a budding network. He can get them things only found in the market, in exchange for pieces of information or news. The same happens with the children outside. He makes sure Nader is distracted before giving them food or coin, learning what he can about his small world.

He is very proud of the time he convinced his elder sister to feign sick, taking her place in a hunt. His very first. The giant, leathery mount so unlike a horse snorts and then ignores him. Nader drops him on the back of the wyvern, and Khalid thinks _this is right_.

He is a natural. All that's missing is a bow.

…_or something else._

He can't remember what, but he is pretty good with axes.

**3.3**

Another assassin, dead.

Khalid doesn't feel guilty. He never has. His mother, father, and Nader are the only ones to ever congratulate him on surviving.

Another sibling, dead.

No one congratulates him on making it through another round of poison immunity, not even the teachers who help him make it and watch over the royal children's progress.

Another lead, dead.

He is no further to understanding what makes him so different that everyone sneers at him when they don't his mother. Tiana, the bravest person from Fódlan, he tells them. Only, she won't say a word about her past. Refuses to tell her only son his heritage, no matter how much he pesters.

Another day, Khalid still lives.

**3.4**

He thinks, _it would be so much easier if I stopped caring._

That's a real problem.

No matter how much he tries to keep a distance, he still begins to care. To like people or tolerate them beyond their uses.

He does not understand throwing your life away from someone.

Khalid does understand living for them.

Making them proud.

Proving the haters wrong.

He is stronger than he realizes, as everyone tells him he is weak.

_Get told something long enough_…

Khalid can name the people he lives for on one hand. He thinks that is enough. That as long as they are still there, he can work to be strong and make his dream a reality.

Right now, he dreams of being King.

**3.6**

His hair, which had always been long, now grows faster. It becomes a bonding moment between him and his age-group siblings, tying or braiding their hairs into different styles. Most get it cut, but he likes it long.

Likes the memories he can make when it is long.

"Khalid, can we weave flowers through it today?"

**3.7**

Puberty – though the word and knowledge of it does not exist in this world – hits like a punch to the gut. Khalid has no idea when his thoughts began lingering on people's looks or why the growth spirts ache. His schemes and careful mechanisms begin slipping, which is unacceptable. He forces himself through rigorous trainings and reads through anything he can get his hands on with gusto. This, of course, leads to a very disappointing realization that he grows _tall_ and _lean_. Even his mother, the smallest of his father's partners, is thicker than him.

For all the disappointing changes, he is stronger than several of his older siblings. Maybe smaller and thinner, but there is a power in his veins that lets him turn a small rock into dust with an uncaring squeeze of his fist. Leave imprints into thick stone if he puts enough force behind it.

Khalid feels more in control of his body than ever.

His sex education has been whatever was said around the dinner table or from the romance books he managed to sneak from the other mothers with the assistance of their kids. He grows to be a bit of a romantic, no matter how much love at first sight sounds crazy.

**3.8**

Word of his heritage slips to the village teenagers before anyone can ask him out. He is both ostracized and mocked by them from the moment he steps foot in there.

Khalid breaks the nose of his once possible friend. It hurts his hand the same way their words make it feel like he is being stabbed by the one assassin who made it too close.

_With friends like these_, he thinks sourly, _who need enemies?_

He doesn't understand how they can turn on him so easily. They've known him for years now.

_Does it all come back to fear?_

How can he make it stop?

**4.1**

Sometimes, all it takes is an accident.

In broad daylight.

After years of denying him answers, hurting him with cutting words to drop the subject, and schemes set in place, all it takes is a moment of undeniable proof.

He is trying to learn Curved Shot, but the arrow goes wild around Nader and cuts the man.

Khalid's injuries heal instantly. Cuts and bruises and aches, gone. Like they had never been there before. He feels powerful.

Most importantly there is a sigil of light in the space before him.

There is a change in the air.

When he looks around, _fear_ is on every face.

**4.5**

Under the light of the full moon, Khalid's mind whirls. His mother and father have left long ago, the latter before the former. His father left him with stories, his mother with books. He has already skimmed a few pages, what little his mother has translated in a hurry. What she tells him – warns, or maybe demands, of him – when his father has gone leaves the teen shaking as things make sense, but at the same time do not.

A country where people walk around with their Goddess' blessing in their veins. People like him, apparently.

The Crest of Riegan.

Known to heal with the damage dealt to another from a combat art.

One of the houses who have beaten back the Almyran's time and again. A close partnership with the Goneril house, who people live in fear of their Crest activating. Khalid does not think healing constitutes the same fear as freezing the battlefield, but until this morning he was just as frightened of the powerlessness fed to every child about facing someone with a powerful skill.

Except it is not a skill. It's in their blood.

His blood.

Tiana tells him to never use a Combat Art again. That hopefully it will be passed off as Light magic if they spin it right.

Khalid clenches and unclenches his hands.

He… doesn't think he can do that.

There is a power in his blood. Another tool in his arsenal. The strong are respected in Almyra, and this is a blessing towards his dream of changing his situation.

Khalid does not want to see the fear or hate aimed towards him from his country's people ever again.

He goes to bed and cannot sleep.

**4.8**

Like a floodgate, his few dreams become constant nightmares.

Khalid still cannot remember them, but the horror remains.

He learns to love the nights of a full moon.

**4.9**

Khalid practices upside-down archery until his fingers bleed and he can't see straight. Shoots up into the sky until it lands where he plans it to even with his eyes closed.

These are Combat Arts, even if no one realizes it. He can feel the telltale itch of his Crest waiting to activate, wanting him to hit a living target.

He doesn't.

Khalid is stronger than he realizes.

**5.1**

Khalid wants to run away.

He does not come to the decision lightly. Doing so would mean leaving everything he knows and loves behind. His mother may want to come, but he still does not know all the factors of her leaving. Has no idea how his parents ever met. Only merchants and spies ever leave into Fódlan, and none ever stay long. Their information network is abysmal, because Almyra does not support learning more about the enemy than necessary and his mother's true identity may cause a riot. They've covered up the Crest incident, but Khalid is unsure how much longer he can hold back in spars.

Almyra does not like to humanize the enemy. It is hard to want to fight when you remember they have family and friends, too.

It is difficult to want to stay, when all Khalid knows is the distrust of his people.

Maybe he'll break down the wall as he goes. If there wasn't the possibility of more bloodshed, Khalid might just do it. Show the two countries that they are both people. They are all human.

He begins to sequester things away. Just in case.

**5.9**

Tiana shows up at the training grounds in a hurry and leaves with him just as quick. Khalid is not strong enough to break her grip yet and tries to question where they are going. _What's going on?_

There's a buzz of not-right in his head as his mother demands, "Be silent, Khalid. For once in your life, _do not speak_."

He makes no promises, lead into a meeting room where his father, Nader, and several other men stand around glaring. Three of them are much whiter than his tanned mother, a shade of skin he has only heard of in his lessons. The middle one, with hair even whiter and a few wrinkles, smiles, "You must be my grandson."

Before Khalid can ask _who are you_, shouts erupt from his father, mother, and Almyran guards. The teen is bustled into a chair between his parents, the very few personal guards and Nader flank the Almyran royals. Meanwhile, only the spokesperson of the three strangers sits, watching the proceeding with a bared teeth grin.

After the third time his parents tell him to be silent, Khalid mulishly crosses his arms and watches the shouting die down. The person claiming to be his grandfather doesn't look away, seemingly try to memorize his features. The only thing in common between them is their eye colour, and that doesn't seem like enough evidence.

Tiana bangs her fist on the table. Several people, including Khalid, flinch, but it is effective in silencing them all at the cost of cracking the wood. The spokesperson gives her an unconcerned look.

"Why are you here?" she demands.

After a long, tense moment, the stranger grins sharper, "To hold up our bargain."

The King of Almyra slams to his feet, the room shaking, "You will not take my son!"

The spokesperson raises a hand to stop his guards from drawing weapons. The guards around the royal family already have their pointed and ready. He speaks evenly, "We had a deal."

Tiana cuts in, "He doesn't-"

"Did you think," the cold, _frigid_ tone from the spokesperson chills the room. Khalid can see his breath, watches in shock as his father falls to his chair and the guards sweat, "that I was not watching? I knew the day he activated his Crest. I would have been content to let this slide since there had been no one to fill my role. However, Godfrey recently survived multiple assassination attempts. With him alive and taking care of the Roundtable, I felt it best to collect my grandson.

"What-"

But Khalid is cut off by his father and mother shouting protests and threats at the man. They say he cannot go, that this will be considered a kidnapping, that they will kill the man.

At the talk of murder, the room goes deadly still in the cold. The man's grin does not twitch as he looks Khalid in his very green eyes, "Why not let the boy decide?"

Even though he has the clues, Khalid must ask, "What is going on?"

"When Tiana wished to run away with your father," the man answers, and only now does Khalid pick up on the sweat pouring off the other Almyrans and his mother, "we made a deal. The family would help them return to Almyra, declare her missing and keep the search away from the other country, while in return she was to send any child she had back to us if they showed signs of an active Crest." He tuts, giving the woman a reprimanding look, "I knew you would hide it, but I had hoped I had raised a better person."

"Do not talk to her that way," warns the King.

The man tuts again, "I could have kidnapped the boy. It would have been as easy as it was to slip my people in and out of your country. I do believe I am being very generous, letting you have this meeting. Offering you, grandson, a choice. Would you like to come back to Fódlan with me?"

Through gritted teeth, Tiana strains out, "He will not-"

"I accept," Khalid cuts in. His parents, Nader, and the guards try to protest, but he waves his hands. "It's my choice. I want to see the place my mother grew up."

His father, angrier than he's ever seen him, sneers, "Very well, son. You have by the end of the day to be gone."

Leaves with his personal guard, door slamming in their wake. The temperature in the room rises, and with a gasp Tiana runs after the King.

Khalid turns to his grandfather, and isn't that weird to think about, to ask, "Where should I meet you?"

The man eyes him, smug like a cat who caught its prey. Yet, Khalid does not feel worried. "The main gates in an hour. I look forward to getting to know you."

Nader follows Khalid, silent, both ignoring the screaming and bellowing happening in the upper floors of the palace. He says nothing as Khalid gets out everything he's stored for running away. Waits and watches the teen's every move.

Sits beside him on the bed as Khalid tries not to panic, "You know, I'm going to take the challenge for King again in a few years. You're always welcome with me. Heck, my sister would take you if needed. She likes you."

Khalid raises his head a bit, the loose strands of brown hair cascading around to shield him from the room. He plucks the loose bead from it before it can fall, partly wondering if he must give them back to his siblings before he leaves, "You have a sister?"

"You didn't know?" Nader chuckles. "My sister's the Queen. I promised her I'd try again after I knew you could handle yourself. If you do ever come back, make sure to bring some of their famous teas. She's a sucker for that drink; you'll be stuck in the palace until she tries them all."

Khalid manages a weak laugh. After a bit of silence, he wonders, "Did you know? About my mother being from someone important?"

"…since your Crest activated. I've fought against Godfrey before. He's a very skilled archer, you might learn a thing or two."

"That's what I hope. Hey, Nader… do you think our countries will ever stop fighting?"

The man laughs again, "That's a loaded question. Maybe if we could all sit down and have a drink, find something in common. Don't know who would pay for that bar tab, though."

But it's not a _no_. It's a bit of hope. Khalid doesn't believe in things like fate, but he hopes some higher power takes pity on him. He wants to see the day where there isn't a wall between people, where the bloodshed is no more.

Maybe this way, he can get a foothold into international politics.

As they leave, the brother born before him hurries around a corner, stopping at the sight, "So it's true," he sounds disappointed. "You're really leaving."

"Yah," Khalid shrugs, not sure what to say. He goes stiff as his brother swoops in, but no knife comes. Arms wrap around in a hug.

"Everyone's going to miss you."

Khalid lists off a few names of the siblings who hate him.

The elder teen laughs, "Okay, maybe not them." He steps back and releases. "But _we_ are going to miss you. I am. You're a good brother, for how scrawny and crafty you are. Don't let wherever you're going beat that out of you. We want to see you again. Everyone's going to be watching you go."

It feels a bit stale, hearing this now. Leaving them doesn't hurt as much as the thought of leaving his mother, their father, or Nader. Khalid plasters on a smile, the one that doesn't reach his eyes but all others accept. Tells his half-sibling, "I'm going to miss you all, too."

He wonders if they'd still feel that way knowing where he's leaving to. In a couple years his siblings will be a part of the military, whether on the front lines or working in the cities and towns is unknown. They are too strong not to go. Only his father's favourites will stay and learn the intricates of politics, and Khalid's known for a long time he is not a favourite. Has known his mother has been in and out of his father's favouritism for years.

Nader freezes on the steps of the palace's front. Khalid mimics him not long after. For there, loading a crate into a carriage, is Tiana. The King is nowhere in sight.

The teen hesitantly scrambles forward, picking up on the threats Tiana mutters to her father all while he smiles coldly. The teen has to ask, "Mum?"

"Hey, kiddo," she says as if everything is fine between them. "Is that all your stuff? We can put it next to mine."

There's a thought in his head. It says, _this isn't how it's supposed to_ _go_. "You're coming with me?"

"Of course," she says, as if she isn't leaving the love of her life, a country where most people call her the Demon Queen, and moving back to a place she detests. "No way I'm going to leave you with this geezer _and_ my brother. You'd never get a day of peace in your life."

He ignores the nagging inside him that wonders if she is only doing this for selfish reasons and hopes it is because she loves him more than his father. Hopes it is because she wants to go back and not because she has to.

Either way, he is happy not to be alone in this.

**6.1**

"Hi Claude. Claude? Clllauuude."

"Hi Godfrey," Khalid – it's Claude now. They agreed he needed a new name, so no one connects the two. Something close enough that he can respond quickly while he gets used to it. Not that anyone outside of the manor knows he and Tiana have appeared – greets his uncle in a mixture of Fódlan and Almyran language. "Sorry, didn't hear you at first."

"Must be a good book," the man comes into small room, refitted as a library for the teen. He leans over, not touching. That's a big difference in Fódlan, something Khalid is struggling with. His mother makes sure to hug him every morning, but that's it. He almost misses the too-rough shoulder pats and arm punches. "What has your att- oh."

Beside the book is the list of stipulations. If Khalid signs, he becomes Heir Riegan.

"The Heroes' Relics," Khalid says, tapping the page. "I want to know what Frailnaught can do. Have you ever used it?"

Godfrey gives a thin smile, taking a seat, "No. I do not have the Crest of Riegan, so Oswald won't let me touch it. I know there are side effects to using it without the Crest, but the old man won't tell anyone."

"I noticed," Khalid makes a face. Taps the column on what he'll get in the agreement. "'All the secrets of Frailnaught and the Crest of Riegan'? He must be desperate to tell someone if you do not know."

"I know he is," Godfrey groans, elbows going on the table as he frowns. "He always told us that Tiana and I would never inherit, even if he trained us for it. It's quite telling how fast he went to get you after the news came."

"You know what? I can't tell if you're mad or not."

"About losing heirship? I'm mad at Oswald, but not you. He told me I'd lose it if I went on my last art hunt, and I hate that he was right. What I would really like is to be there when you run circles around the other nobles, if Tiana's praise about you is true."

"What does she say?"

"That you're very great at getting under people's skin."

Khalid grins, "It is a talent."

They chat for a little more, just to practice the other's language, before Godfrey leaves to go do whatever duties he has. Khalid goes back to reading, much less frightened now at how he understands the words than when he first began lessons. Khalid could swear he never heard anyone speak in Fódlan's language before, but he knows what each word means. He _understands_.

Reading and speaking, however, are a lot more difficult. He gets better the more he practices, but he still butchers words and his writing is atrocious. It is something he will unfortunately have to get tutored in if he signs. Calligraphy and quills.

Fódlan, in some ways, is worse than Almyra. In some ways, Fódlan is better.

Pale skin is more than just a common trait, while hair and eye colours can be anything. He still gets dirty looks whenever he goes into town, but it only took one reprimand by Khalid's grandfather to make sure none of the manor staff ever insult him again. Long hair is only for women or noble men, and even then the men are not allowed to style it. There are layers of clothing worn, more for nobles, but no one ever runs around bearing their chest or in just the necessaries to protect weak spots. There are frills and puffs and capes and makeup. People hide their scars, and it is shameful to get physical with others. Swords, lances, and axes are the respectable weapons, bows are for hunting or the weakest fighters.

The food makes his stomach roll, and he can barely eat. His mother always digs in with gusto, wears shirts and pants instead of short dresses. She is the crudest person at the table, the most violent in the household, but she slips back into her place with ease.

Khalid feels like he is struggling. Everything is too different, sometimes making him feel physically ill to try and understand the culture. He trains, reads, and ventures out to try and understand.

The worst is how much blind faith the people put into their religion. Nobody questions anything. It is all part of a greater plan to them. Even when they are down on their luck, the Goddess will bring them salvation. They see the Almyrans as brutes, invaders, savages and heretics.

Khalid grew up with a people who hated anyone they thought as weak or dangerous. He grew up hearing that the people of Fódlan were cowards.

Claude must now learn the ways of a people who are afraid of _others_. Who will lock away their country and destroy anything not in their worldview.

He thinks that maybe he wants neither for the future. Less hate, less fear.

For everyone to get along.

**6.2**

Khalid laughs as he gets the ball, rushing to the other side of the training field like his mother tells him to. She pins her brother to the ground, but the captain of the guard is still free to try and get him. The teen ducks and weaves around the other team's members, eventually throwing the ball to the lead healer of his team. The ball gets tossed up, and then sinks in.

There are curses from his uncle's team as Tiana's group takes the lead. Godfrey shouts that it won't stay that way forever.

"Whatever you say, old man," Khalid crows.

He gets his hair ruffled for that, "If I'm old, then your mother's leaving her golden years."

"_Come over here and say that to my face!"_

**6.3**

"How does your hair not get in the way?" Godfrey asks, flicking the thick braid.

From where he hangs in the rafters, Khalid shrugs around the drawn bow, "It never has."

Hits the bullseye.

When he looks back, Godfrey has an odd look his face, "Why are you shooting upside-down?"

Khalid gets a sense that the man's mind is somewhere else, "Why not?"

It later comes, when Khalid is in the small reading library, flipping through the thousand plus paged book on table manners he'd be supposed to learn if he signed the heirship agreement, that Godfrey shows him a few letters. Explains to his nephew, "There was a person who saved my life about a month before you came to Fódlan. We write letters back and forth, and they have absolutely no idea who I really am. She's a little bit older than you. I know you've had some trouble making friends, so I was wondering if you'd like to write to her as well. A third party, no clue on your past or who you are."

Khalid skims over the notes. They're rather funny, both with bits of humor and some demand-like suggestions towards a man who has hardly ever been told _no_ in his life outside of his family. "What's her name?"

The silence that comes is very telling. Khalid raises his eyebrows as Godfrey looks pointedly away.

"Uncle Godfrey… Don't tell me you forgot."

"Look it's- I've been busy."

"She signs the paper with 'L', so it can't be that hard to guess." More silence. "At least tell me you remember what she looked like."

"…Hungry?"

Khalid can't help but laugh, "How are you still in charge again?"

"Look, kiddo, I'm trying to offer you a chance to practice your writing skills without signing your future away and talk out your problems to someone who has no way of impacting them. She said she was a commoner, she was pretty strong, and she lived in Gloucester territory. That's all I remember. Sorry."

"I thought they were still in boiling water for the whole bounty thing?"

"They are for not monitoring the situation, but since it wasn't signed with his Crest mark we cannot legally charge him with trying to kill me."

"Yah, I wanted to ask about that," Khalid brings up. "How are you still in position heirship if you can't sign anything?"

"Dad's been looking to adopt someone with the Riegan Crest for years. If you hadn't gotten anything, he would probably start looking towards Sreng. That's where a few of our ancestors ran off to when they didn't want a political marriage. It's become something of a tradition, and why Tiana was never forced into anything."

"So I can run off to Sreng one day?"

"Oswald wants you to sign so badly he'd drag you back, tradition be d***ed. But hey, about the pen pal. Want to try it?"

Khalid looks down at the neat and easy to read handwriting and thinks, _what's there to lose_? "Sure."

It's not like they'll ever meet.

**6.4**

He gets a writing tutor because Oswald does not want him to send anything less than perfect.

"Again."

Every attempt at a first letter gets shorter and shorter.

"Again."

He tries, he really does, and he does want to have someone outside the situation to talk with.

"Again."

By the fifteenth letter, he's more than frustrated.

"Again."

Khalid has over thought what he is going to say, to try and get them to like him.

"Again."

His tutor makes him redo it if there's a spelling error, ink blob, or is unreadable because his writing in Fódlan's curly language with a writing utensil made from a bird looks like said bird's talon marks.

"Again."

He gets fed up with the tutor, the planning, everything, and simply writes a letter, _Hello, _and then another letter.

His tutor gives him a disdainful look, "It passes."

He sends it off with Godfrey's, not expecting a response.

Khalid laughs when he reads the one that comes, something in his chest uncurling with relief.

**6.5**

He has to repeat the attempt over and over, but Khalid writes back.

He surprises himself.

**6.6**

There is a shift in the air, a change in the food and the clothing he is allowed to wear. Something tense in Khalid uncurls further, and for once he begins to find bits of peace in Fódlan. His mother hugs him more and spars with him. Godfrey's offers to play games with him come frequently. There is now a section of Almyran-made bows available for him to use, and they take him out hunting.

Of course, it cannot be great forever. Khalid knocks on his grandfather's door and waits for, "Enter."

Oswald von Riegan is an older man who will outlive his children, if what the books on a Crest bearer's longevity is true. A Major Crest of Riegan resides in his veins, and at one point he singlehandedly repelled Almyran's trying to attack from north of the border with Frailnaught.

He has also been very sick recently, something rare to happen for Crest bearers according to the same book.

The man takes off his reading glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose, motioning for Khalid to take a seat. The teen's eyes wander, watching the candles in the windowless room, "What did you need me for, gramps?"

"I must apologize to you," Oswald makes it sound like pulling teeth, but Khalid is too stunned by the words to retort. The old man _never_ apologises. "I thought you would have been worn down with the offers in front of you, thought that maybe once you learned of Frailnaught's power you would have signed just for the ability to make change with it and the title of Duke Riegan. I should have been more invested in smoothing your transition into our world, instead of hanging the rewards out like a carrot. So, I will ask now, Khalid, why have you not agreed to be my heir?"

The teen's gaze shutters. He pulls out the paper and points to the only section that still leaves him feeling ill, "I understand now that short hair is a thing here, but I am not comfortable cutting it all off."

"Your body, your rules," Oswald sighs, as if he should have known the answer. As if he's heard it before. "You will need to cut your hair for the position, but I can bring in a stylist. Decide on a shorter cut with them, at least most of it needs to be above your shoulders. And think of it this way: you want to help people? We can make your hair into a wig to be donated to an orphanage or hospice."

The thought still does not leave him comfortable, but not taking heirship leaves him feeling wrong. A few days later, Khalid's head feels lighter than it has in years. He leaves a small braid of half the length, a style similar to those in Almyra who partake in a trade field.

The day after, he signs the paper and becomes Claude von Riegan, heir to the House of Riegan and next leader of the Roundtable Alliance.

**6.7**

With the announcement of a new heir out, the number of assassins coming for their family abruptly dies off. Claude appreciates the irony of it, even if it makes him paranoid enough to keep a weapon in reach every hour of the day. With the signing also comes tutors. Specifically, the best person to get his basics up to snuff for the Officer's Academy level and teach him the ins and outs of Roundtable politics.

Judith von Daphnel is a terrifying woman and Claude may have a crush on her. The fact they are cousins somewhere in the family tree puts a damper on it really quick. Still, she is the best person for the job, and they get along well enough. Within days his baseline Faith healing is at a level where things cannot cut him deeply. Arrows are unable to puncture muscles, organs, or veins, even from a strong shot. He gets to practice Combat Arts, too.

When his Crest activates, everything feels clearer.

"Claude!"

The two halt the spar, turning to Oswald.

"Sorry, Judith," the old man grunts. "I need him until dinner."

"I'm still getting paid," she waves away the concern. "Remember to cool down, boy."

"Yes, Judith," Claude makes sure to take his time. Even though the old man doesn't show his displeasure, he knows it's there. "So, where are we going, gramps?"

"The prayer wing."

A rush of excitement mixes with the adrenaline, "Oh? Have you finally deigned to let me see Frailnaught?"

He isn't expecting the, "Yes."

"Nice."

Learning the rules of the Church, Claude's come to learn that every Relic must belong with the family bearing its Crest or be stored within Garreg Mach Monastery until someone with the Crest appears. Obviously not every noble family bears a Crest, and there are not enough Relics to go around, but those who do have both must dedicate an area in their manors or castles to where people can pray to the Relics. No one ever really uses it, but only a 'blessed' place can store these weapons when they are not in use by their Crest bearers.

Claude doesn't believe a word of it but says nothing so to not give the Western Church a reason to start taking an active role in the Alliance politics. The longer he can stay away from the country's cult, the better.

Oswald nods to the guards at the doorway and unlocks the door with the only key and a fingerprint wreathed in light. One day, Claude will have to learn to do the Crest imprint.

Inside the windowless room, barely paying attention to the locking behind him, Claude takes his time to bury his fear. Oswald doesn't bother to light a fire, marching over to the ball emitting an unearthly red and yellow glow. Claude lags behind, remembering to breathe, "So, gramps, why show me this now?"

Oswald activates a rune, lighting the candles in the room. With a better view, Claude excitedly focuses on the paperwork spread over tables and books labelled as diaries.

"This," Oswald says gravely, putting a pause on the excitement, "is all we have managed to discover about the Crest of Riegan throughout the years. By dinner, you will understand why no one else must know of these things."

Their gazes wander over to Frailnaught, a bow too unlike something made in this age. It almost looks like a hand. Or spine.

"The first," Oswald walks over to lift it out of cradling arms. The red and yellow dies away under his touch, "is that only someone with the Crest of Riegan may use this bow. If another were to, it would either harm them or kill them from the backlash. It connects to our Crest, powers it further. Which leads to the second lesson."

He sets it down. Meets his grandson's eyes in a mournful daze, "Prolonged usage will increase your Crest's strength. A few years with the bow, and you may find your Minor Crest has become a Major Crest. This, along with the side-effects of our Crest, will make us more prone to illness. Shorten our lifespan."

"What?" Claude demands, tone going dark. "What side-effects? Why use it at all, if it kills us faster?"

"Power," Oswald takes a seat, pushing over an old book. The page it is on lists the known effects of the Crest of Riegan. "The Crest is the reason we are where we are. Frailnaught is a beacon of hope for those in these lands. While we can not redirect rivers or cut through mountains, we can still make something maybe even more impactful with our abilities."

There is a pause, disbelief scrawled all over the teen.

"Empathy is a trait shared with all Crest users. We are able to feel another person, get a sense of their emotions. If you've ever wondered why the people of Almyra are made out to frighten Fódlan so much, this is why. Did you ever instinctively try to get a sense of someone, only to get nothing in return? I cannot feel you, Claude, and we cannot feel _them_."

Turning away from that very traumatic subject, Claude points out, "There is no way we can tell the future."

"Did you ever get the sense that something was wrong?" Oswald counters. "Something in your very being? It would have happened when you were a child. A moment in time where you felt you had to stop or change something. Do you have nightmares now? Constantly? Those should ease by your fifteenth or sixteenth birthday, and then you will only have them when there is something you _must_ change. You will not remember them unless you obtain a Major Crest of Riegan, but you will still feel the warning sense as the time approaches."

"Fortune telling does not exist," Claude insists, "we make our own paths. Choose our own choices."

"Maybe so, but could you imagine if it got out some of us could predict tragedies? And you will predict something once you come of age, Claude. It could be a bad feeling, or be words being said. A sense the world is repeating around you, and that you need to stop what is to come. Your Crest is two levels below a Major Crest. What did you feel the moment you first saw me?"

"…This is-"

"-_wrong_," they finish together. Oswald grins, full of pity, "Because we were not supposed to meet there. You were going to run away, live a few years in Fódlan, and then I would finally find you and convince you to be my heir."

Claude feels like the air is crushing his lungs. There is so much he wants to say, and so little he can find the strength to ask. As crazy as it sounds, it feels right. On a level he cannot comprehend, it feels as though the series of events make sense. Like he did what Oswald said, only he cannot remember it, "What did you do?"

"I dreamt for years that I would receive a message of Godfrey's death in Gloucester territory. I warned him for just as long that going there would strip him of his title, because how do you tell someone you dream of them never coming home? How do you love them? And then, he survived his death route. It was the only fortune that has never come true for me, and I will gladly take the blessing for what it is. I sped up our meeting, somehow got Tiana to come home, and now here we are. Lesson three, Claude. Change is inevitable. We must take the advantage where we can."

**6.8**

The wyverns are due to be born sometime this month, he still hasn't been able to formulate a letter to his pen pal between all the training, and now Claude is stuck at his first ever Roundtable meeting. The only upside to all of this is that it has been in Goneril's territory. Claude has finally been able to see the largest, most heavily attacked by Almyran forces, parts of the wall. It is tall, thick, and for a moment he wonders how anyone would think they could get through it instead of over, under, or around.

But then he thinks about the powers of the Heroes' Relics, and he is excited at the thought of bringing it down himself. One day. When doing so would not bring about a full-time war between the two countries.

"Hey, you!"

Claude turns and views a lot of pink. His breath catches.

He does not believe in fate. Has had long chats with his grandfather about destiny and future and choice. Blind obedience and faith are not his style. But if he did believe in any of it, at least a little, then he would accept that laying eyes upon the teen before him was akin to love at first sight.

Her brother seems to pick up on it a bit, straining to keep pleasant, "You are Claude von Riegan, are you not? I am Holst Goneril, and this is my sister, Hilda Goneril."

"Younger sister," she makes sure to state, eyeing Claude up and down. And it hurts, claws at his emotions and tears at his heart, how she looks at him like dirt under her nails. The going theory with his grandfather is that no one can feel him with their Crest or whatever causes the Crestless to spot an Almyran without knowing it. He can sense the two's distaste without trying to feel with his Crest. "I am very curious to talk with you later."

"We've come to collect you," Holst jumps in. "The meeting is about to start."

"Lead the way," Claude grins. It doesn't meet his eyes as he can feel them reject him. It hurts a lot more than he thinks it should.

At least Lorenz isn't at this meeting. Claude doesn't think he can take another round of disapproving hums and Crest-sense rejection when he messes up the utensils.

**6.9**

The sons of two prominent merchants all but sworn to server and prosper the Country of Riegan. Best friends, by how easily they talk. Ignatz Victor and Raphael Kirsten.

There is a tally in the back of Claude's head. It goes, _one_, _two_.

He is distracted by the fearful look that flashes on Ignatz's face, the doubt that comes and goes from Raphael. Ignatz seems naturally timid, Raphael naturally kind and looking past whatever he subconsciously feels from Claude.

Claude, though, feels the rejection in his Crest. He talks easily, swapping stories with them as they travel along to pick up the others.

Marianne, _three_. Painfully quiet and will not meet anyone's eyes, so he doesn't take her fear of him personally. Still, it doesn't endear her to him.

Hilda, _four_, looks exasperated as he tries to play charming and smiles. Claude wonders if anyone notices it is fake. Another strike if he has them all fooled.

Lorenz, _five_, starts in on the lectures about nobility as soon as they're all down. Doesn't seem to pick up on anyone's discomfort, and soon they lose Ignatz and Raphael from their group. After a while, the Gloucester heir frowns, "Sir Riegan! This is not the fastest way to Ordelia!"

"I know!" Godfrey shouts back from the driver's seat. "We're picking up a student along the way!"

Lorenz hums, frowning further, "They must be a commoner. I do not know of any nobles who live this far out. Why, the only village near here would be… Sauin, I believe."

"Relax, Lorenz," Claude leans back further on his crossed arms. "We have plenty of time to get to the Monastery. Kick back, enjoy the scenic route. We could play a game from my childhood. My eyes spy something green."

"Tree," Hilda deadpans. "Now will you both be quiet? I am trying to ignore you."

Marianne whimpers.

Claude sighs as Lorenz turns on Hilda. He stares up at the fabric roof, almost able to see their noble Crests stuck on the outside. He turns to happier thoughts, like finding the pen pal he's grown fond of over the years. It can't be that hard to narrow down females who's names begin with the letter _L_.

Unless they've been lying to him and Godfrey for years, like he's been lying about his original name. Then he'll have to start trying to match homework to the handwriting in the letters. As long as he finds them and can determine if they're a rejection too. Then his curiosity will be satisfied and he can put full attention on digging into the history of Fódlan.

He needs to find something that can decimate mountains. Allies who will stand with him when he makes a big move.

Because who needs friends when there is a part of them that will fear or hate him for being so cold to sense? So unempathetic to Crest senses and a threat to the common populace.

Claude doesn't need to feel them to know that all reactions are the same.

**7.1**

_Six._

'_Where is Leonie?'_

Claude jolts a bit, the thought coming out of nowhere in the middle of his inner ramblings. He blinks, looks around the cart. Spots her, and then goes back to admiring Hilda's reactions. He really enjoys watching her, so expressive and honest with him. She plays everyone so well, plucking just the right strings to make them think it was their idea to help her or do her work. Claude knows he annoys her, being so hard to read. Which makes it all the more fun to pull real expressions out of her.

Except Hilda doesn't bite at his teasing, so he turns to his next target. Lorenz is always quick to anger in the face of Claude's lax manners and holes in nobility etiquette. To the Riegan heir, he swaps between finding it odd that Lorenz doesn't avoid him after Gloucester's false bounty was gaffed and indifference to the teen who so desperately wants the leadership to the Roundtable to bring his family back from the shame. Lorenz isn't desperate enough to kill him, Claude knows what that looks like, but he'll be keeping an ear out on the actions of his _fellow Golden Deer nobles _while they're at the Officer's Academy.

Marianne has to be hiding something with how scared she is of the world.

**7.2**

"She did this on purpose!"

Claude looks up from book he's reading my candlelight, vaguely surprised to see his uncle glaring at a bundle of papers, "Who did what?"

Instead of answering, Godfrey jerks it out for him, free hand covering his face, "Read it."

Claude hesitantly takes the bundle, laying it out on his book. It becomes rather obvious that he can't read it, at least not without hours to try and make out the bird scratch writing, "Was my writing ever this bad?"

"Yours was saintly compared to that," Godfrey looks like he's mourning something with how he sighs over the writing.

"What _is_ this?"

"Leonie's essay for getting into the Officer's Academy."

Claude's mind screeches to a halt. Looks up in disbelieve, "_This?_"

"She said it was the final draft, but that's…"

"How would this pass the written exam?"

"I don't know," Godfrey stares at the tent wall like it has betrayed him. "She must have sent a better one in. She must have."

"Or maybe the professors can read scratch marks," Claude gives reading it another try. He makes it through the first sentence and is intrigued, but not enough to keep deciphering. "You're better off getting her to read it."

But when he goes to hand it back, his uncle is staring at him with that unfocused frown. A pause that stretches. He looks around, but nothing.

Claude slowly meets his uncle's eyes, "What is it?"

"…Nothing," a sharp shake of his head. "I was just thinking."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense."

"What colour are Leonie's eyes?"

"Orange," Claude replies automatically. A practice of knowing the features of everyone around him, years of watching for assassins. "Why? What were you thinking about?"

"I was just thinking I couldn't remember," Godfrey laughs, shoulders relaxing. "Must be age." He takes back the papers and scowls at the words. "I'll try to make a dent in this, let you know if there is anything interesting."

"It's probably all a lie."

"Probably." And Claude jerks at the omission from his only, constantly optimistic family member. "What's that look for? Leonie's already told me as much. She has a mercenary licence but needs the certificate to get anywhere big with it. They'll judge where she's at and let her take the test for free after her teacher signs off. She just also needs to do the knight's exam while she's there."

Claude feels a slow smile grow on his face, "What else can you tell me about her?"

"Oh no, get to know her yourself. She's got a better head on her shoulders than to- I don't know, put itching powder in suits or switch the salt and sugar jars."

"Are you still mad about that?"

"The _cooks_ are still mad about that."

But Claude resolves to ask her for a few stories. If she is trying to cheat the system for a bunch of licences, then maybe she won't be so bad.

The thing is though…

…_he keeps forgetting to talk to her._

**7.3**

Just before he was sixteen, when the nightmares stopped frequenting and he began to remember tastes, smells, and emotions upon waking, sometimes there would be a few words. Always someone else speaking, and as he meets people he can begin matching the things he cannot forget.

Claude awakens in a luxurious bedroom in the dead of night to the taste and smell smoke, his body sweating, and for once his own voice searing words into his blood and head.

'_Where is Leonie!_'

So loud and clear, it must be recent. In a panic he looks outside but cannot see anything through the darkness. He is worried and too warm, trying to remember to breathe. He is not used to how these new unmemorable nightmares force him into action. His instincts demand he go, but Claude fights it with every breath. He _can't_ be hasty. Without knowing what is to come, it is impossible to know why he remembers smoke and panic and-

'_Where is Leonie?'_

Claude clambers out his window, ignoring all warnings of not to go exploring in places you don't own. He has to search around the stable to find her, trying to keep light footsteps even through the urge to make sure she's _here_. He spots the cart and looks in and-

She's there. Asleep. The urge evaporates at once, along with the traces of smoke that aren't there. He turns away, hand coming up to his face to ground him. This is real. It was just a dream. Nightmare. Something that didn't happen, but he'll be on the lookout for today. Tomorrow. _Whatever_. "Why am I even out here?"

Claude startles when Leonie makes a noise, but she's just moving in her sleep. With that, he decides it's been weird enough and hurries back to his room. It's here he really notices how big the ivory is. At least reaching up and over three rooms, thick and sturdy like it was made for climbing.

He paces around his room for a long time, working off the edges of the nightmare. Trying to remember.

But only someone with a Major Crest of Riegan remembers the images – memories – of their dreams,

And Claude hasn't dared touch Frailnaught.

**7.4**

'_Where is Leonie?'_

Nothing comes of the nightmare, even after he checks his notes on what he remembers. Nothing comes of it, besides the small nudges when his head registers five people in the cart instead of six.

Objectively, he knows she's there. Can even see the line forming between the commoners and the nobles no matter how he tries to include them. Claude just… _forgets_ where she is sometimes. She has a presence quieter than Marianne, which should be impossible for someone who's hair sticks out with such an orange colour.

Orange hair, orange eyes. Clothing that cover everything but arms, neck, and head. Sometimes a cloak, fingerless gloves, and shorter than him. Smaller, in ways that he can't describe the feeling it brings to look at. There is just enough fat on her face to not call it skeletal, while the rest of her visible appearance looks all muscles and bones. Angles just odd enough to raise an eyebrow. Her gloves somehow stay on, even looking a size too big. Her clothing is loose enough for movement but reveals nothing of her actual size. At several first glances, Leonie's gender isn't apparent, and her voice doesn't give many hints.

Claude glances at her again, wondering just when he realized she is female. Wonders if it was a subconscious thing or if he only realized when Godfrey referred to her as such.

His attention is drawn back quickly to Hilda and Lorenz making remarks on his hair. He tries to redirect their attention to Leonie's, but Hilda just brushes it off as fine and tries to convince him to smooth it back or straighten the curls.

Claude feels a growing suspicion. Leonie's hair looks like someone took a knife to it in order to keep it short enough that it would stay out of the way.

But then the suspicion disappears, as he forgets about Leonie again and defends his hairstyle.

**7.6**

Lysithea is so… _small_.

White hair, red eyes, and a stiff breeze away from blowing over. She's smaller than any of his brothers and sisters, practically a large doll being swallowed in a dress. She has an attitude and is already talking about advanced magic.

Claude notices the moment she looks a bone-weary tired in her parents' arms. As if the weight of the world is crushing down on her and has been for a while. It is when she doesn't give him a second glance that he resolves to make sure she doesn't let her troubles drown her. Also, to make sure she's staying healthy; Lysithea's gaunt arms and face cannot be from good habits.

It's rare that no one focuses on him in a first meeting. Hopefully a good start to a partnership, they're both heirs to a Roundtable seat after all.

_Seven._

**7.7**

As Lorenz crosses the divide that had been growing between nobles and commoners, Claude counts them again.

_One_ and _two_. Ignatz and Raphael.

_Three and four_. Hilda and Lorenz.

_Five and six_. Marianne and Lysithea.

He isn't looking at Leonie as he tallies her, _seven_.

_And I make eight._

The maximum number of students for the main classes of a house, barring special permission by the Archbishop. From studying enrollments and listening to stories, Claude's found a small pattern. There is always someone who excels at archery and someone who can take the heavy armour classes. Ignatz and Raphael fill the roles easily, especially since they're children of prominent merchant commoners. There are normally two spots for magic users, one Faith-inclined and one Reason-focused. Just hearing the talks, he thinks Leonie, Lysithea, and Lorenz will be fighting for one of the spots. His instincts, though, say those belong to _Marianne_ and Lysithea.

There is a very large chance that, seeing as Claude struggles with lances, it will be a three-way fight for the two cavaliers spot. Claude's spot is guaranteed as next leader of the Alliance. Which leaves the random student. For the Golden Deer, the spot is usually filled by an archer. Magic for the Eagles, another lance user for the Lions. There's been very few changes in the design over the past decade. A sword user here, an axe user there. The odd changes are usually dependant on the house leader's skills.

Claude looks around the cart and counts them again. He sees potential classmates and thinks, _better the ones you know_.

It also sinks in that three of them have names beginning with the letter_ L_. Claude ruled out Lorenz ages ago, though the hairstyle did make him hesitate on a what-if scenario. Leonie and Lysithea are potential candidates, one more than the other. He had to give Leonie's name to his uncle, while Lysithea hasn't actually talked with either Riegan yet.

Claude doesn't get his hopes up, though. He isn't even sure if his mysterious pen pal got his last message yet; he didn't get a reply before leaving on the road trip.

Better the people he knows.

The part of him that's read all those romance stories hopes they'll click like pieces falling in place at first meeting. He could really use someone watching his back in the heart of Fódlan's religion.

**7.8**

While the ladies go shopping, Claude takes the time to get to know Ignatz and Raphael better. Lorenz tags along.

It is eye opening, how Lorenz butters up Ignatz with praise and offers him a position if he passes and obtains the knight's certificate. Claude's never thought about building a support of hand-picked personal guards. Especially not when he has yet to see the person in action. Claude drifts off with Raphael in search for food.

The commoner who looks like he could crush someone with his fists turns out to be a gentle giant. Raphael eats a lot, gets a gift for his little sister, and plays with a few stray cats. All the while never once show displeasure at speaking with Claude. _In fact, he seems pretty happy_.

But then, so far Raphael always seems to be happy. Hopefully, going into a den of noble vipers won't harsh that.

They're coming up on it soon, and Claude's filled with nervous excitement. Finally, he can see into the heart of the _continent_. Learn about their stories and gather the tools to become a leader. A reminder, that he isn't here to make friends but allies. People who will stick with him when he finally amasses enough power to make a change.

Maybe see if Raphael is worth bringing in on the campaign for an open-border Fódlan, but Claude will not shed a tear if his fellow students get caught up in the mess left behind.

**8.1 **

It feels like someone is watching him.

Claude tenses under the onslaught of what feels like judgement. It makes him twitchy, cranks up the paranoia, and only the feeling of pain drags him out from under it. He's left marks in his hand, fists clenched under the _wrongness_. It's different then the usual odd sense; this covers him head to toe and he grabs a bow, begins maintenance, if only to keep his mind off it.

It ebbs off eventually, and he's almost tired by how much of an energy drain he feels. Another secret he's looking to uncover. There is some kind of barrier here in the land claimed by the Monastery that allows in only rushing water, never rain. If that was what they passed under, then clearly there is more to it. But who would tell Claude if he asked?

Well, it's a good thing they can't expel him, isn't it?

**8.2**

Garreg Mach Monastery, for how old it is, is still rich in culture and renovations. Parts of it are crumbling, parts of it are cracked, but it is filled to the brim with history and happy looking people.

Claude can't wait to dive into its depths, uncover all its secrets.

But first, sleeping assignments. Ignatz isn't a fan of sleeping up high, they aren't sure if the refurbished cell-like room can hold Raphael's weight on the top bunk, Claude is working his way into a panic attack over being stabbed if he sleeps up or squashed if he takes a lower bunk, and Lorenz doesn't want Claude on a level above or below him.

The Riegan heir has to leave the room, smiling and telling them to decide. He has to place a hand on the wall and ground himself, deep breaths in and out.

_It's stress_, he tries to tell himself. _Just stress_.

He recovers enough that he jogs the rest of the way down at Hilda's squeal. The sight of Lysithea hugging a golden deer toy melts away the rest of the fear.

He can bunk with Godfrey tonight if necessary. It isn't the end of the world to share a room with three practically strangers. Besides, it isn't as if he sleeps lots or heavily anyways.

_Four and four_, he thinks, trying to hold the calm with the thought. The Officer's Academy's main class is usually an equal split in gender, and here they all are.

Together.

Having each other's backs.

…_Really hope my read on the guys isn't wrong_.

**8.3**

Claude signs up for Crestology.

Godfrey signs him up for allowances in Choir, Fists Club, Etiquette, and Animal Care. Claude has to show up to each club's lessons least once a month or else he gets mandatory detention and has to do the dreg jogs in the one he missed. _Whatever_, it's his grandfather's money. It looks like he'll be seeing most of his classmates around, so there is a greater chance to connect with them.

Seteth is already watching him too closely. _Wonder who warned him, and what they warned him about_.

**8.8**

Claude is listening with half an ear to Hanneman's explanations about _Crest suppressors_ and the reason they're needed to get a pure result for the _Crest analyzer_, but the reality is that he's still shaken from talking with Manuela. He thought Leonie's wariness may have been an over exaggeration. It wasn't. He kind of wishes she'd have told him just to take the out, even if he wouldn't have believed her and gone in out of spite.

The more he thinks on it, the more he wonders if that was their first real conversation since they met. If they did ever talk between her village and now, he wasn't really paying attention. Odd, but there are currently more important things to wonder about. He'll need to check in on those who did get the full physical.

"If you'll put your hand on the analyzer now."

Claude does as directed and blinks out of his thoughts as a yellow and golden light intertwines to shine before them. _There right there_, is the proof he belongs in Fódlan nobility. The Crest of Riegan on display, tangible when he's only ever been told it is in his blood. Finally seeing proof squashes that last bit of doubt.

"Yes, yes, your papers did say you were about an eighth tier for your Minor Crest," Hanneman mutters, furiously scribbling on his chart. "I will check in with you at the start of the year. We may be able to draw your Crest to the ninth level by the time your exam comes around. You already have the makings of a Major Crest of Riegan, see how your Crest appears to be reaching inward? Why, we may be able to rank you as a low Major Crest within a few years, once the two curves are connected. For now, I recommend visiting the chapel for an hour prayer session every day. Crests have the most success gaining power while immersed in Faith magic."

"Sounds good to me," Claude says, no intention of following through. The relief at seeing his Crest has turned into a cold lump of dread. For all Crest bearers are supposed to have longer lifespans, he's read his ancestor's journals. A jump in Crest status takes a constant toll on the body. Oswald is the perfect example of jumping levels in a Major Crest, ill often and nowhere near the physical strength he used to hold. Compared to other Major Crest bearers, he's essentially dying young.

Claude doesn't want to break his body with an unseen force, _thanks_.

**8.9**

Claude slides in next to Leonie for dinner. The correlation between the heaps of food on her plate to her small body isn't processing. It isn't near Raphael's mound, but he thinks she'll be sick from overeating soon enough. He knows she's shorter than him but sitting next to her, Leonie looks _small_.

He elbows her and feels only bone and muscle.

He verbally jabs at her and she keeps smiling. Accepts it and moves along.

It's almost refreshing. Definitely a challenge. Claude has no idea why he hasn't tried to get under her skin before, but he's making it a mission now. Everyone angers at something, and it's best to know which triggers are pressable.

Of the ones participating in the obstacle course tomorrow, Leonie is the only real competition.

**9.2**

Claude is used to early mornings. He's always had a difficult time sleeping for long periods, never truly needing the full night's rest. He's also used to eating alone, his siblings or the castle's staff taking spots down the table away form him. Moving away when he picks up his things to eat with them. He deals with it; the only time he's ever taken meals in his room have left him fighting a poison assassination attempt.

There are maybe three other people eating when he goes for breakfast. By their hard looks, he's not making any friends today. Back to the thick stone wall, entrances in the corner of his eyes, Claude watches everyone. Sees Leonie enter not too long after he starts eating.

Chokes when she smiles and makes her way over to sit with him.

"Morning Claude," Leonie greets, sitting across from like nothing's wrong. Shuffling the food on her tray as he recovers.

He can count their conversations on one hand. She wants something. She has to. There's no other reason to be here but to make nice with the highest Golden Deer noble of the group. "Good morning, Leonie. Morning person?"

"Early morning training person," she tucks away fruit into a pouch he can't see. "New energy, new day."

He baits, "Enough to go exploring with me later?"

"Can't." He almost believes her. She looks apologetic, disappointed even, with her smile shrinking. Gives him some excuse that sounds plausible. She really has bothered Seteth, enough that he isn't giving Claude a stink eye anymore.

So, Claude doesn't press. Gives her a smile that says _no hard feelings_ instead of_ I know you're up to something_ like he wants to. "There's always next time."

"Absolutely. Anywhere you're looking in particular?"

"Well, since we can't see the library yet," he tries to look charming, hand under his chin, "I was thinking I'd look around. Learn a culture the old-fashioned way."

"Architecture."

Claude feels his lips part wider in surprise. He didn't think anyone understood that, how different the arts and buildings can be between cultures. It was shocking for him at first, how castles and manors can be built so differently but still hold or represent the same things. "Exactly. You know, not many people get that."

"It's the number one thing I notice. I'm a small-town girl, though. _Everything_ is different from where I grew up."

_Culture shock_, Claude thinks, remembering the one letter he saw in his uncle's study. The most probable catalyst for the change in his situation. How he could finally begin to start thinking of the manor as _home_. "Oh yah? I bet this has all been a big change. Rather _shocking_, right?"

Leonie's grin comes back, excitement playing over her face, "I still have my appetite, so it's all good. From what I've seen the students eat, _that's_ going to be the shock to my system. Real food? With seasoning? Perish the thought."

Claude snorts, remembering how poorly he took to the new diet. Latches onto a different thought, "I've never heard that expression before."

"Small village commoner," Leonie grins, unabashed. "I probably have a lot of weird mannerisms."

"You eat like a noble," perfect use of the cutlery, "I think you'll fit in just fine."

Leonie coughs, "Like a Deer noble, or an Eagle noble?"

The fact she knows the difference makes him laugh, "Not a Lion?"

"I've seen a book on their table mannerisms. It's not worth the extra practice."

Claude smiles, that light back in his eyes. "Here, here."

As the conversation breaks into different topics, he can't help feeling that what was said was familiar. Something's he may have heard before. Thankfully, not in the Crest way.

**9.3**

Claude doesn't like how many people came to watch them. _Smells like a setup_.

"So," Leonie breaks into his thoughts, "how are we going to do this?"

Claude feels his mouth move before he processes, "What do you mean?"

Leonie means working together. With him.

It is such a novel experience. Someone who's looking to bend the rules with him, instead of leaving him out to dry. She even suggested it first, so Leonie can take the blame when Seteth gets all huffy about them not doing the course solo. This test is meant to pit them against each other, for someone to give up and agree to do things the traditional way for a physical. Without his Crest, Claude knows it would have been at least twenty minutes to complete the whole thing. That's only what he can see. There are definitely some traps buried around to weaken them.

Leonie wants them all to get through. Takes his ideas into account and forms a plan together. It has always been someone telling what to do or ignoring him. This is what he's come to the Monastery to learn. Teamwork, and more importantly how to be a leader.

The part of Claude that doesn't trust her thinks this must be why she was so nice at breakfast. Buttering him up so he wouldn't be opposed to working together. However, there is a line that's sticking with him. Something that casts doubt on the theory.

"I'd carry you if I thought you couldn't."

Leonie looked like she meant every word. Still looks earnest as she talks over the plan with Lysithea and Marianne. If they fail, Claude will make sure it's all on her.

**9.4**

The don't just succeed, they crush it. Literally. Lysithea blows a hole in the climbing wall and Marianne's prayers light up their path. It has to be one of the strangest obstacle course runs he's ever participated in. Claude doesn't know how Leonie got him over the line before her because he had been trying for last. As the person slotted to become the figurehead of one of Fódlan's three countries, the Officer's Academy has to accept him. Leonie's a random commoner who had the luck of knowing Godfrey for a sponsorship. The Church has no reason to keep her around, especially after turning their test into a teamwork exercise.

Since he's watching, Claude sees how Leonie's smile doesn't falter as Seteth marches their way. He watches her square her shoulders and hold her head high, preparing for battle.

…_Would it really hurt if I take credit for this?_

Claude steps in front of her, takes the heat of Seteth's glare, and proceeds to talk circles around authority. It's what he's good at. The crowd of onlookers watches him, believing Claude to be the mastermind behind the plan.

_Let them_, he thinks. None of the ladies at his back protest. When Seteth finally gives them their victory, through the cheering, Claude gets a little nudge at his arm.

Leonie, looking more relaxed, only says, "Thanks."

His mouth is dry, "Not mad I took the credit for your plan?"

"It was _our_ plan at best," she smiles more like a smirk. "You did most of the work, so take the credit."

"I'm pretty sure I watched you lap me."

She laughs, "Physical work is completely different from keeping things together. Having Marianne light up the ground was genius."

"Lysithea blew a hole in the climbing wall."

"I know, it was _great_."

_No praise for herself_, Claude thinks. _Must be one of those odd people who doesn't like glory._

If there's one thing the same between Fódlan and Almyra, it's the want of glory and fame. And giving people weird titles.

**9.6**

Claude doesn't go far in his exploring. The escorts are all packing up, and soon he'll be on his own. No support besides what his family name brings. It's all rather exciting, as long as he doesn't work himself into a panic. Fighting off assassins is so much easier when you know the layout of the place. He has trust in his poison resistance, especially since poisons in Fódlan are so much less creative and powerful. Judith's training means he can take a headshot arrow if need be, Claude's shield of faith magic stronger than most his age. There is no reason to panic, besides the lack of allies.

He should be used to this, but there's always been someone to turn to. Tiana, Nader, Godfrey and Oswald. Even his siblings in the last few years together.

"What's caught your attention," Godfrey asks, leaning over his shoulder. "Crocus?"

"Autumn crocus," Claude corrects without thinking. There's no exclamation, which isn't too surprising. Godfrey is terrible at forging. "It's weird, these normally grow when the leaves brown. They should have been killed during the cold season."

"You'll find that about a lot of plants here," Godfrey shrugs and leans away, uninterested in the flower. Claude is very interested in what other deadly things grow around here. "So, how are you feeling?"

"I've been worse," Claude straightens out. "Better now with time to adjust. I would hate to have been here closer to the school year. No time to relax, you know?"

"I get it," Godfrey eyes him. "I cried at night my first two weeks here."

The brings Claude up short. Tiana had said she had been expelled two months in. Godfrey never talked much about his experience, while Oswald would praise the Officer's Academy a little too much. "Missed home that much, huh?"

"Not really. I had a few friends around, so I wasn't too concerned. No. I knew that if I wasn't the Riegan heir, then I would have never gotten into the main class. All of my classmates were better than me, so I had to make up for my weaknesses elsewhere. I got really good at finding talented people," he nods back to where his personal guards are packing, "so that I didn't need to be."

_Coward_, hisses the part of Claude's mind that remembers – grew up learning and immersed in – Almyran culture. To hide behind anyone is a weakness. To not push to the limits and beyond is to be ridiculed. Claude has, however, grown up hearing about the war. Could never understand why people sacrifice themselves instead of running to live another day. Or, why fight just because someone told you too? The pay cannot be _that_ good.

"How about my classmates, then?" Claude forces his thoughts away from the decisions of his family. "Anyone I should team up with?"

His uncle gives him a long-suffering look, "If you're going by pure strength, Hilda, Leonie, and Raphael. Politically, any of the nobles. Raphael and Ignatz are great ties to the business side. Lysithea, Lorenz, or Marianne if you need a magic user's advice." Here, he pauses.

"What?"

"If you need a loyal figure," Godfrey continues, saying the words with an expression of having his teeth pulled, "go for Leonie. She keeps quiet about a lot of things, and I'm sure you've noticed how she redirects. She's also smart and isn't the kind of killer to feel guilty afterwards."

"Wait," Claude jerks, alarmed, "she's killed before?"

"You aren't supposed to know that," Godfrey mutters harshly. "Yah, okay, an assassin that was coming after me. If anyone at the Church asks, though, she hasn't spilt the blood of the people before. They're really big about taking in students who haven't killed. Probably to manipulate them in their grief- you weren't supposed to know that either."

"The Church really is hiding things?" Claude hisses, eyes wide. "Why didn't any of you warn me?"

"We thought it would be for the better if you didn't try to reveal Church secrets."

"Aha! It really was more than you! What would the family think I would try to reveal?"

Godfrey groans, "Nothing. Because you are _smart_ and going to keep your _head_ _down_ so you can _graduate_ and be a _respected_ member of the nobility. Drop it, _Claude_."

"You can't just say that to me and expect me not to go searching," _as if he wasn't already_. Now there's proof.

"You will not go digging up secrets," Godfrey says, and for a moment he looks scared. "People who do, _disappear_. Gone, because they got curious about artifacts or snuck into restricted sections. Promise me you will focus on your studies and making connections, not the secrets of the religion housing and feeding you."

Claude lies, "If it means that much to you, I promise."

While it may hurt to know he's going to destroy his uncle's relief one day, it isn't going to stop him.

**9.8**

Everyone gives their excuses because _apparently_ even though everything in Fódlan appears slow, the newcomers are settling in fast. Leonie, though, smiles and says, "I can join you after lunch."

After so much rejection to explore, Claude never thought he'd get an agreement. He's quick to excuse Leonie's willingness as, _she's just paying me back for the obstacle course_. He took the heat, to repay she can explore with him. A no-lose situation if she didn't already have plans like the rest.

It will be a good time to get to know her better. Ask about whatever the girls don't want to talk about and hear the stories of where she learned the weird terms and phrases. The _small village commoner_ isn't a good excuse, but Claude can appreciate hiding secrets. It's makes for even more fun to try and pry them out into the open.

**10.1**

"You'll probably see her around. She's Seteth's sister. Big," a motion around her head, "hair, much lighter green then his."

Claude coming over his surprise that Leonie is sitting with him for breakfast _again_, "And she's teaching?"

"Yep. Super nice. You know, if you want to join band-"

"I'm already in enough clubs, but thanks."

"To each their own," Leonie shrugs, digging into her oatmeal and berries.

_Doesn't get mad when interrupted_. Claude strikes another thing off the list.

**10.2**

"I take it," Hilda looks at the two male nobles, "you both got invitations as well."

"I would not be here if I did not," Lorenz huffs, sneaking glances at the large door. "The higher floors are restricted from the public. I would not risk expulsion, and I should hope neither of you would. Claude, where is your invitation?"

"Relax, Lorenz, it's right here." Claude grins at their reactions as he pulls the crisply folded paper out from under his shirt. Hilda rolls her beautiful eyes so hard that he's surprised they don't pop out.

"Really," Lorenz hisses, "do you have no shame?"

"Where else was I supposed to put it?"

"A pocket. A _bag_."

"Well, which one?"

"Boys!" Hilda throws up her hands, "Will you please be respectful? We are outside of the Archbishop's hall."

"You are correct," Lorenz stiffens, a light blush filling his cheeks. "My apologies. I will not lapse in my manners again."

Claude feels no shame, just continues to smile as the beautiful pink haired lady sniffs in distain at him. Does it hurt? Yes. He will not do anything to rectify it, though.

They stay silent as footsteps approach. Seteth appears from the awning, frowning, "Is Lysithea not with you?"

"She has yet to leave the room today," Hilda replies sweetly, as though she isn't a near-master manipulator. "I believe she is still feeling unwell from all the travelling. It is a big change for all of us, you know. I could hardly sleep in such a stiff bed myself."

Seteth does not take the bait, "Alright then. I trust you will catch her up on anything missed."

"Why are we here, Seteth?" Claude does a little wave. "It seems a little odd to call us out, with a letter of all things."

"You will see in a moment," the man says shortly, striding for the doors. "Follow me."

The knights who had been watching them let them in. As they grow closer to the woman dressed in the finest garbs and jewellery to ever be made in Fódlan, so to does the feeling of tension wrap around Claude. A judging, pointed feeling. As though the room has suddenly become colder.

In the corner of his eye, Claude sees Hilda looking to be in bliss, while Lorenz wears a permanently peaceful smile. _Something in the air_, Claude realizes. Something he is immune to. He forces his jaw closed, breathing through his nose but can't smell a thing. If it knocks the others out, then he'll try and fight his way out, screwed over by his own paranoia. If it's just something to force people into relaxing, then all he needs to do is keep his mouth shut.

Easier said then done when faced with a mystery.

"Good morning, children," greets Archbishop Rhea. Dressed to impress – or strike awe – with a headpiece that makes her presence feel larger. Green hair more mint than Seteth's dark. She looks as one would expect of a motherly type, not a hundred plus years old religious leader. "It heartens me greatly to finally meet you. To see you carry on the traditions of your families and attend the Officer's Academy for your leadership training."

It does not get past Claude that the invitation to meet her came after their chaperones left.

"Lysithea von Ordelia is not here because of travel sickness," Seteth explains, taking his place beside the archbishop. "I will have a healer sent to check on her."

"Not Manuela?"

Claude can taste blood with how hard he bites a cheek. Seteth looks pained by his boss' question, "No. Lysithea was one of the few carried through the event yesterday. I feel it would be best to hold off on sending Manuela to anyone until after her review."

Rhea hums, expression falling into a gentle sadness, "It pains me that one of our own must be questioned. But enough of that. Claude von Riegan, Lorenz Gloucester, Hilda Goneril. I am proud to announce that the three of you and your fellow, Lysithea von Ordelia, have been approved into main Golden Deer class for this coming year."

Claude smiles and thanks her with the other two, but he feels cold under the searching green eyes of the archbishop. As if she knows what he thinks. _That_, for as glad as he is to get the pass, _this isn't_ _right_.

"I trust one of you will deliver the news to Lysithea _in private_," Seteth stresses. "Advance acceptance is rare. You will still be required to participate in the testing; however, we require your insight into your fellow students' abilities more than your best participation."

"Sounds good to me," Hilda eagerly agrees.

"Right then," Seteth sharply nods, walking towards the doors. "That is all. Claude, follow me to my office."

It says something about how drugged they are that Hilda and Lorenz don't mock or protest Claude following the administrator. Seteth motions him to have a seat, pulling out files from a labelled stack in a cupboard. With sharp eyes, Claude can see the names of several incoming students before it closes. He marks it as a good place to go searching for information.

"This is not to be spoken of outside this room," Seteth demands, placing three folders before him. He takes a seat as Claude flips them open. "It will not be confirmed until every student has been selected for your class, but you are the current choice to lead the Golden Deer next year. If you leak this information, it will be taken away from you and given to your second in command. Those are your options for the position."

Hilda, Lorenz, or Lysithea. All equally terrible options. Unless he somehow tricks Hilda into doing work, he'll be left with full control. Lorenz will lord his power and do whatever he can to push Claude out of the main class. Lysithea - _oh hey, her birthday is coming up_ – is young, almost too young, and doesn't have the charisma to keep a group of people together.

At least he knows Hilda's manipulations. She wouldn't crackdown on Claude and risk the ire of his noble house. It also helps that he wouldn't mind her flexing power. "I want Hilda as my second."

Seteth looks like he disproves the choice, but says nothing about it, "That will be all."

**10.3**

Claude runs into the healer sent to do a look at Lysithea. She isn't in her room, so he waves them off with a, "She probably stepped outside for some air. I'll take her to you guys if she isn't better by tonight."

He lingers a bit in the hallway, alone. Wonders just how many layers there are to the Church's plan. Claude never expected them to blatantly tell them they were already in the main class. He also never expected the officials to drug them.

He may be in over his head, but that's never stopped Claude before.

**10.4**

_Killing intent_.

Leonie doesn't know it.

Doesn't know the feeling of suffocation in the air. Struggling to breathe as fear leaves your body paralyzed. Colours in the room muting; feeling too full or too empty inside. An instinct in yourself screaming to not draw the attention of the predator.

Judith taught him how to use it. Claude is nowhere near the level of Oswald's, but he can silence a room with licks of dread if need be. He tries, a pinpoint shot of killing intent right at Leonie as she carries Lysithea.

Not even a twitch of difference.

What would have gotten under anyone's skin, doesn't work. Another thing crossed off the list. Something noted, is how easy it is for Leonie to hike down the mountain and back while carrying Lysithea.

He can use this.

**10.5**

Leonie nods slowly, eyes flirting from Hilda to Claude and back. "Yah, I can distract her. Our times for the fittings are back-to-back, so it wouldn't be a big deal if I stuck with Lysithea beforehand."

"Perfect," Hilda beams. "You'll need to do it as well on the actual day, give us time to setup and convince her to leave the room."

"No need to worry about that. Lysithea said she'd be a weight for me if I needed one. I'll cash in on a favour if I have to."

"Thank you, Leonie," Hilda coos. "That means _so_ much."

Leonie gives her a deadpan smile, "Sure."

Claude tries to hold in his chuckles, "Hey Leonie, do you think you can carry somethings to the lower village and back without Lysithea noticing?"

Hilda goes to admonish him – they've already got Raphael carrying things – but Leonie responds with a pleasant, "Small things, sure. Anything bigger than a backpack and someone will need to distract her while I go back and forth."

"It's fine," Hilda cuts in. "Raphael and Claude will bring everything up during your distraction. Now if you'll excuse us, we must discuss the plans with Marianne."

Hilda takes his arm in a vice grip, dragging him away without care. Claude cheekily waves to Leonie as he goes. She waves back, eyebrows up.

"What are you doing?" Hilda hisses when they're far enough away. "We had a plan, Claude."

"There was no harm in asking. Besides, it's obvious she doesn't care for your sweettalk. You're weren't exactly subtle."

"I am as subtle as a brick to the head," Hilda drawls, finally letting go. Claude rubs his arm on instinct, feeling warm both because Hilda touched him and his magic barrier healing the bruise. "It's not my fault no one else notices. And I. Am. _Trying_ to get them into my gossip network. Leonie is the only one who's getting to know other people, but Lysithea would rather read and Marianne would rather talk to animals. You do not understand the depths of my suffering."

"Speaking of Marianne," he switches the conversation away from another _woe is me _session, "why do you think Rhea didn't include her in our little acceptance."

Hilda hums, "My only guess is because Edmund does not hold as much weight in the Alliance, what with it being the newest addition to the roundtable. But it could also be because she has the least likely chance of inheriting."

"Says the second child."

"To start, I have a Crest. I am also from a direct line of my house. Our situations are very different."

"If you say so," Claude crosses his arms behind his head, enjoying watching her think. "Do you think we can talk her into coming to the party?"

Hilda turns on such a sad, pleading expression that he almost falls to his knees and begs for her thoughts so he can fix whatever the problem is, "No one can resist this face, Claude."

His heart beats loud in his chest. Claude smiles wider, voice strong, "No, I don't think anyone could."

It wouldn't be enough to make him go back on his idea of opening Fódlan to the world, but it would definitely make him think twice. Claude wonders when the attraction will begin to lessen, because if it keeps like this then it will only hurt more if he finds a way to tear down the wall the Goneril family guards.

**10.6**

"Matilda von Scherer," introduces the current leader of the Golden Deer House. "You're going to be shadowing me until exams begin. Any questions?"

"Which of your family is in my uncle's personal guard?" Claude wonders.

"My uncle. And yes, I am officially a commoner. Your uncle drafted me into leading a battalion years ago, so no, I do not need a position in whatever you're building for yourself."

"I wasn't going to ask, but good to know."

Matilda's face sours, "The first thing Seteth wanted me to teach you was paperwork. As a house leader, you're going to get a lot, so I hope you're a fast read."

"Hey, uh, does anyone else know about the whole…?"

"The other house leaders do, because they will be mentoring your counterparts if they arrive before exams. Otherwise, you will be the only one prepared for the responsibility. Congrats."

When he looks at the stack of paperwork, Claude doesn't exactly feel celebratory.

**11.1**

_20_

_Alright, C. I'll see you there._

_L_

Claude reads it over and over. He digs out his box of their letters and memorizes the handwriting. Where the capital letters curl, the size of the writing, _everything_. He looks to the line in his uncle's letter, telling him that their pen pal is at the monastery. He wants to find them, but at the same time doesn't. Claude doesn't want this little bit of peace ruined. Doesn't want his writing buddy to look at him with disgust or hate him on sight. It has been so easy to talk with them, to someone who isn't affected by his dual heritage gifts.

He reads over the letters and frowns a bit at the wording. He's talked with someone about a few of these topics. A moment later, Claude can remember the jokes with Leonie about learning the art of cutlery. While it would fit – saved his uncle's life from an assassin, a bit older than him, female – he's seen a sample of her writing. There is nothing similar between the messy scrawl and the beautiful, spaced out words of his correspondent.

Which means sneaking into Seteth's office for a look at those files, getting the names of all the future students and filtering down, or waiting until the school year and compare assignments. Claude knows which one's the easiest choice, but he's impatient enough that he'd like to break into a high Church-figure's secure cabinet. Claude has a hunch and planning this will be more fun then reviewing Matilda's class assignments and request forms.

It's as he's coming up with a response for his pen pal that Claude realizes his uncle must know the name of the mysterious_ L _if he knows they're at the school. The betrayal is only tempered by remembering he's left several pranks for his uncle to find back home. The rash power is Claude's current favourite non-lethal weapon of choice.

**11.5**

"Claude," Matilda's eye twitches as she looks over the rejected pile. "A word of advice. Never reject a request for more of these three items."

"Huh?" Claude blinks and looks at the names she's written. "Licorice root is an expensive import, and it's on Manuela's list of things of restricted health items. The House would also save money without buying large quantities of ginger or chamomile tea."

"This is the maximum amount of licorice root allowed to be ordered per person, per month. If you do not buy the other two, you will have a riot on your hands. Buy the tea."

"Why?" he laughs, going back to reading over history reports. "It's just tea."

"Heathen," she replies with no heat, like always. "Don't say I didn't warn you." She finishes accepting his rejects and hands them all over. "You said you wanted to deliver them this time, correct? If you leave now, you'll make it before he leaves for the dinning hall."

"Thanks Matty," Claude swoops out of the room, laughing and ducking as a training knife goes sailing over his head. He goes for the long way around, hoping to see Seteth leaving so he can crash the empty office. Passing the bathrooms, he winces at the sound of retching. _At least they made it in time_.

It does give him an idea on what to do to set a reputation for himself. He needs to make it big and effective, so no one bothers him. So no one _wants_ to come to him. It must be closer to the beginning of the new year, but not during exams. There is a limit to how much he can get away with. It can't leave any visible marks, nor be permanent. That still leaves a lot of options for mixtures he can concoct.

For now, Claude walks up the stairs to the second floor. Seteth's gone and there's a guard shift, perfect for walking into the unlocked room. The teen sets the papers on the desk and opens the unlocked cupboard.

What he first notices is the Golden Deer section appears pitifully small compared to the others. A measly fourteen folders compared to the stacks of Eagles and Lions. Seteth has organized them by last name, so it's easy to count the dozen who's family name begins with an _L_. The first and middle names are harder; Claude skims a thumb over their titles and counts with sharp eyes.

Twenty-two names beginning with _L_. Over half are female. He sucks in a groan and goes to start with the Eagle class, but ends up hurrying to shut the doors and sit down when he hears footsteps.

Seteth, looking rather angry, narrows his eyes in the doorway, "What are you doing here, Claude?"

The teen motions to the stack of papers, "I'm dropping off Matilda's stuff. Oh, and I also wanted to ask- see we're planning a party for Lysithea-"

Seteth, apparently very hungry, easily agrees to his request for a spare room and is about to leave after a sharp reprimand to wait outside until he's back, when a sweet, melodical voice exclaims from the hallway, "There you are, brother!"

Flayn, Claude thinks, looks much more like Rhea than her supposed older bother. Her eyes light up when Seteth introduces them, the lovely lady clasping her hands together in excitement, "Oh yes, Leonie has told me about you. Is it true you carried your classmate through the Knight's obstacle course?"

Claude laughs, acting sheepish as he hides the delight at the young woman's oddity. Not even a hint of displeasure from her, unlike Seteth who is trying to burn Claude to a crisp with his glare. "Well, halfway through it. Leonie carried her the rest."

"Claude was just leaving," Seteth breaks in before Flayn can ask anything else. The lady pouts, and Claude's overcome with the odd urge to hug her. To see her smile again.

"We must talk again sometime," Flayn declares, waving and stepping away from the doorway. "It was a pleasure finally assigning a name to a face."

"Same," Claude shoots back, careful not to make Seteth explode. _That's a very unhealthy complexion_. "See you around."

"Oh, indeed!"

Though, Claude is going to do his best to be scarce until Seteth forgets this whole thing.

**11.9**

"A rumor," Hilda hums to herself, "to make you look bad. Why?"

"Ladies have started coming up to me," Claude lounges on the opposite bunk. It's rather bare compared to the small touches on the other ones in the girls' room. "Only they don't try and flirt with me alone. It's always in groups. One guy accused me of seducing his girlfriend and challenged me to a fight. Obviously, I'm not doing any of that-"

"Obviously."

"-_but _I would rather not have to deal with it in the first place. So, what magic can you work to keep people from coming near me?"

"What's in it for me?"

_That's easy_, "I'll get you a set of gemstones that you can use for accessories."

Hilda's eyes narrow, "How did you know about my hobby?"

Claude points to the half-done, woven necklace on the nearest table.

Hilda takes that as an answer, "I want three different kinds of quarts, at least one red and at least nine stones in total."

"Deal."

"Is there anything you can do to back up the rumors?"

"I'll pull a few stunts, be purposefully mean a few times. You can say I'm a schemer? Someone who only looks out for himself? How would that work?"

"I can even get Lorenz to help spread that one," a slow smile grows on her face. "But you have to keep it up for a while in order to cement it all. I know it isn't hard for you to talk dishonorable trappings or plans but do try to keep it legal. I do _not_ want to have to lead the Golden Deer house."

"Yes ma'am."

"I expect those stones in a week or I'm going to let everyone know how heir Riegan is single and ready to mingle."

Claude forces the smile to stay in place, anger and distrust bubbling in his chest, "Yes ma'am."

While she hates putting in the effort, she'd do it. Another reminder of how much power she holds over him, even if Hilda doesn't know it herself.

**12.2**

Like every morning since their arrival to this place, Leonie sits across from him for breakfast, greeting with an energized expression, "Good morning."

Except this time, he notices she's not eating from her tray, "Morning. How was your run?"

"Same old, same old. Apparently it's the Faith exam today, so I'm going to rope Raphael into coming with me to Fight Club. Have you been yet?"

"Not yet." She still isn't eating from it but pulls an apple from about her hip area. "Is it fun?"

"I enjoy it," Leonie flashes a smile between a bite of her apple. "It's just fist fighting, but it's nice to finally have human opponents. Everyone in the village was either too old or too young to practice with. Oh, and just a heads up, Lysithea and I were moved to the Black-Red Eagles set-up last night."

Claude feels something at that announcement. It's a deep, wounded sense. Something that goes further, deeper, than the memories in his Crest blood. A sense of betrayal that makes him want to reach across and- he's not sure if he wants to hurt her or drag her and Lysithea back to their old room. To growl out that they are _Golden Deer_.

But Claude's always been great at masking his emotions, instead shoots a confused smile and asks lightly, "Why's that?"

"Uneven numbers is the official word," Leonie explains, twisting her fruit by its stem. She doesn't look away from him, and it calms down the thing in him. The anger is directed to those who made her move. "Unofficially, I'm the only friendly face to that kidnapped girl. She's having a hard time adjusting, obviously."

"Obviously," he repeats in a tone too dry, the thing getting the better of him for a moment as it settles back. Disappearing as though it was never there. As if it knows what she's talking about. Leonie's showing the first signs of true displeasure he's seen on her since the physical exam. Claude speaks honestly, "Hey, I'm glad she has someone. It's just… what about when school starts?"

"I'm hoping to get her a support system before that," Leonie admits a bit grimly. As if taking care of this person is her job. He's feeling oddly indigent on the subject. Looking after students is supposed to be the House Leader's job, but then again the Eagles are really big this year. "If you can recommend any Eagles to start with…?"

He barks a laugh, "Not many are talking to me." At least, none that could help. Selfish and vain, trying to get a foot through the door to the Riegan wealth or standing. He wouldn't trust any of them with an animal, never mind Leonie's newest focus. They sound like the kind of person who would have been chewed up and spat out in Almyra.

"Figures," Leonie purses her lips. "I'll see who's coming in the next few days to try and set her up with something. Hey, I can point you to some Blue Lions if you're tired of seeing us everyday."

"But you're all such _great_ conversationalists."

Leonie snorts, hair strands fluffing around her head, "Is this the part where I thank you for carrying most of the dinner conversations?"

Claude coughs because… he feels almost grateful that his talents are being recognized, "…You're the only one who's noticed."

"I think we've all notice, but at the very least, I appreciate it. Thanks, Claude."

_Yah, okay_, he feels better now. Which means it's time to pull out the one thing that seems to bother her: formalities. Claude grins and mock bows against the table, "Why of course, Ms. Pinelli."

"Ugh," but even her vague displeasure isn't enough to lessen how much he's grown to enjoy their chats, "please stop that."

She's smiling. No matter how much he tries to barb and needle her, she's always smiling in the end. Always sits with him the next morning.

"Since you asked so nicely... I've been meaning to ask," he dangles a spoon in his hand, leaning on the other, "where do you keep getting apples?" Even when they don't server one, she's always munching on them.

Still hasn't unloaded her unusually large tray. The irrational worry is starting to drip into his thoughts.

"Found them, stored them. Why? You want one?"

"Sure, why not?"

Claude leans over to try and catch a glimpse of her side pouch, but Leonie's already tossing an apple at him. He catches it, a bit surprised at how hard it slaps. By the time he's looking up, she's already gathered and standing.

The worry doesn't seem as irrational now.

"Catch you later. I have to make sure Bernadetta is capable of eating sizeable meals."

_Bernadetta_, Claude resolves to memorize that name. The excuse calms his strange panic a bit – he's still not over her _and_ Lysithea switching rooms – though it's not enough that Claude can't help but try to get his table partner to stay longer, "Isn't that Manuela's job?"

"Do you think I _trust_ her?"

He flashes a smirk, because at least they're on the same page with that. Claude decides to do his nice need for the day, "Her class's Faith exam is tomorrow."

"Thanks for the heads-up."

Now, time to be culturally inappropriate to some nobles.

…_I bet Leonie wouldn't get offended so easily_.

He shakes off the thought and wrongness. _Yah, she would_.

It's a confusing mix of knowing vs. _knowing_ that he doesn't give any more attention.

**12.4**

"Look at you two, hard at work," the librarian, Tomas, chuckles as he comes by their table. "Is everything alright?"

"We're good, Tomas," Matilda says without looking up from her homework. "Thanks."

"Hey Tomas," Claude props a hand under his chin, grinning, "Any books on the second floor you need help getting?"

The elder chuckles again, grinning brightly with an eye twinkle in return, "There are some rules even I cannot bend. It is only a few more months. Have patience."

"It's never been my strong suit," Claude goes back to reading the essays Matilda marked. "Thanks anyways." Once Tomas isn't looking, he shuffles them off the library book.

"That needs to be back before the hour," Matilda reminds him. "Seteth's going to swoop in and kick us all out."

"It wouldn't be the first time an alarm has gone off. I bet he wouldn't even notice."

"I don't have time for detentions. Finish your chapter and I'll put it away."

Claude sighs but hurries to memorize the travels of Saint Cethleann.

**12.6**

In the constant sounds of the dinning hall, Claude almost doesn't notice it. He looks to his other side, freezing only a moment at not meeting orange eyes that have a habit of watching the table, "Where is Leonie?"

"Exploring," Lysithea says, nose practically in the spine of her book, trying to read in the poor lighting. "She said if she got lost, that I was in charge of getting Bernadetta's food. Obviously, I'm in charge." She says it as though it's a major inconvenience.

"Do you need help-"

"_I'm fine_."

"Okay," Claude relents and tries to engage Marianne into a conversation. It goes less than stellar. He tries next for Ignatz and Raphael, with more success. Their conversation is soon taken over by Ignatz and Hilda discussing accessories while Lorenz tries to explain table manners to Raphael.

He feels the odd moment of silence, watching them all. There is a gap where Leonie would either fill it is with stories or entice someone to tell their own.

_Seven out of eight._

Claude can't even remember how these dinners came to be. They all just showed up around the same time, every night. There was never a decision, never any promise. And they _always_ sit together, no matter the ties to other people. For someone to be missing…

He's not one to worry too much about others, but he'll do a sweep of the grounds before curfew. _Just in case_.

**12.7**

'_Where is Leonie?'_

Claude can't stop watching her from the moment she enters the dining hall. He'd had the dream again, not the nightmare of smoke but a voice that is his but not asking for her. It really hammers in the point he couldn't grasp. Claude can match a line from the dreams he can't remember to everyone he's ever met, except for Leonie. There should be something, but there's not.

He tries not to think on it, warring between suspicion and worry if he does. He plasters on a grin, teasing as she takes the seat across from him, "And where were you last night young lady?"

The squeak from beside her is practically an explosion. Claude barely feels his fork drop, eyes wide at the thing he has trouble focusing on, that he didn't even realize was there.

_No, not thing. Person_.

"I lost track of time and only just caught the end of dinner," Leonie shrugs, the person latching onto her side as they try to hide. He sees a lot of purple, and it almost sounds like they're wheezing. "Claude von Riegan, this is Bernadetta von Varley. Bernadetta, this is the future house leader of the Golden Deer."

Claude forces his eyes to stay on the girl. If he thought Leonie was small, this one is _tiny_. There is practically no presence to her. Then he processes what she said, and there is a bit of anger and fear because no one should know. "Hey now, that's not for certain. It is very nice to meet you, Ms. von Varley."

_Deflect_.

The girl lets out a noise that practically shoves worry down his throat. Claude isn't one to care much for others but _does she need a doctor_?

"Bernadetta was kind enough to be added weight for my jog today," Leonie says, pushing the tray of food over to the girl. There is a pause before the girl delves in, still blurry to look at. It is the strangest thing he's seen today, and Leonie seems completely unaffected by it. _Maybe touch negates it?_ "She and Lysithea are going to be reading for the rest of the day. I'm heading down to the lower village later if you want anything."

"Nah, I'm good for now. Hey, Bernadetta," the girl 'eep's and meets the smile Claude's reserved for small, newborn animals, "if you want to eat with us at dinner, it's alright. I promise we don't bite."

He's shocked by how her image gets blurrier, his eyes beginning to slide over the girl without thought. He can feel a bit of sweat forming from focusing, and almost loses concertation when her panicked words begin rushing.

"None of that," Leonie sounds gentler than he's ever heard her. Calm, keeping the girl in her seat without trapping her. Attention solely on the small flight risk. "Of course Claude wants you here right now. He's only extending the offer to eat with him or the other Golden Deer whenever you want."

"_But he said_-"

"Dinner, yes, but really, it's always dinner somewhere."

Claude sits back, watching Leonie explain things that aren't even hypothesises – barely theories in the realm of Fódlan's sciences – as if they are facts. She makes it sound easy; one thing turns constantly. When Fódlan and the sun face each other, we get light. When we face the moon, there is still a part of the moon facing the sun. She's just about to detail how the moon can still get light with Fódlan between it and the sun when a student drops into a seat a few feet away. Claude noticed the room was getting fuller, but Bernadetta obviously didn't as she flees the moment it registers.

"I'm going after her," Leonie sighs and drops her apple core on the tray.

Claude wants – yearns – to ask how she knows all of this. If she's making it up_. How does the light hit the moon?_ He also needs the time to focus and reassess, and Bernadetta is a priority for her. He needs to get the facts from that as well, because so far his read was that Leonie didn't shelter people. So, Claude stops her before she can lift the tray of empty dishes, "I'll get it."

Her smile slips for a moment, "…Are you sure?"

_No_, "I've got it. Go help her."

Leonie's returning smile is something softer, more grateful. "Thanks."

Alone once more, he can finally think about what just happened. The infamous Bernadetta is obviously traumatized by something and, as curious as he is, it isn't Claude's problem. Leonie seems to have that well in hand, if he can get her to trust him then it will be easy just to ask for details. He's more curious about the ability to obscure features. There isn't a record of it being a Crest power, if it's an item then he can get his hands on it and cause all sorts of mayhem.

After meeting the girl, Claude takes back his thoughts on Almyra crushing her. She would either be a great spy, or a great messenger with that kind of speed.

**12.8**

This time, Claude doesn't even hear Seteth return. The man catches him in the act, though thankfully it's Lysithea's folder in his hands. He passes it off as wanting to learn more about his future classmates. Seteth, unfortunately, does not let him off completely, "I told you to wait outside my door the last time. Seeing as you disregarded my instruction, and you feel the need to learn more about your classmates, your punishment is to write at least a page on every Golden Deer student joining the next term. It is due the week before the new year, with latest extension on the first day of the new year. After that, I will let you read their files."

Which is fine, because the only handwriting he has left to see are Lysithea and Leonie's. If it's neither, then he'll have the time to begin looking when assignments roll around. Claude smiles, cheeky, "I won't do it again, Seteth."

"It will be much worse for you if you do. Now, before you go, what can you tell me about this… phantom of the Monastery?"

"Not much. A couple people said they were pulled into rooms and yelled at a bit. Is it real?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Seteth's hard glare drops into something more troubling, as if he had thought Claude was the perpetrator. "I have had more than a few complaints come about them. It is bringing a lot of fear, both that it is a vengeful ghost and that someone is causing harm to the people of the Monastery. We are looking into it, and if you learn anything then alert me as quickly as possible."

Claude clenches his jaw, still smiling, and replies that he will. He almost says something about hate he's seen. Cruel words by nobles or the clergy to commoners. Disdainful looks to those marred by injuries or sickness. Pushes and shoves to those that are visibly from somewhere other than Fódlan.

There is only one person in all of the Monastery who's known to be Almyran, and it's not him. Even the only people to truly know – not just guess or theorize – Claude's true bloodlines are Oswald, Tiana, and Godfrey. Khalid is known by the people in the manor and the people of Almyra, but not as a prince and Claude respectively. The whole point of a secret identity is to keep secrets.

Cyril was a boy from Almyra who was brought to the Monastery by the archbishop herself, and yet people will still purposefully track mud through places he's cleaned or call him extremely offensive slurs. Claude has yet to meet the elusive boy, but he understands the kid's reasoning of not being seen or heard.

It adds motivation to Claude's fire of _stopping this treatment_.

"Oh, and Claude," Seteth doesn't know when to quit, stopping the teen as he goes to leave. Green, protective determination seems to be lit in the man's eyes, "Stay away from Flayn."

_Or else_, goes unsaid.

Claude finds himself really _annoyed_ with Seteth today. His hands clasp behind his back, fingers digging into palm as pain keeps his thoughts clear, "Relax, Seteth. I'm not going to drop in on the music club like Leonie does to the others."

Seteth swallows the _that's not what I mean_ and nods sharply. Eyes promising murder if Claude so much as thinks of spending time with the greenette.

She seemed nice enough. He'll have to talk with her again soon.

**13.1**

It's a reckless idea, badmouthing the Church in the middle of its base of operations. If he's being honest, what Claude says to the empty hallways isn't even that bad. All he is doing is questioning the central points of their religion.

He doesn't hear anything as one moment he's looking around, running his mouth, and the next he's shoved into a small room. Into a seat. He can't focus on the figure as they move quickly around the room, scolding – _no, more like warning_ – him about insulting the people who own the place.

Their voice, low and a bit distorted, is the only sound they make. Claude has trouble focusing, worse than with Bernadetta, with an odd mix of black and white stopping the light from hitting them where he can see. Every time he tries to get up, he's pushed back into the seat without seeing the person move. As annoying as it is, the person is still in range of Crest's sixth sense of feeling people. He focuses on the feedback, on trying to get their emotions.

Only, there's _nothing_. As though no one else is in the room with him.

The whole encounter cannot be anymore than a minute, but he is in the chair longer. A bit of dread creeps into him. While he likes mysteries, it's no wonder people think this to be a phantom. It isn't even like those from Almyra, where he's now learned they are the only people he cannot get a read on with the help of his Crest. There was no presence to this person.

Claude resolves not to get caught up in this again. As curious as it is, he wouldn't even sense them coming – Crest or no – if they decided to kill him. Better to not get complacent with this threat and to move some plans ahead.

Things like this don't just abruptly start happening without a just as abrupt stop. This ghost-like person is here for something, and he's not going to snitch to Seteth about a handful of secrets to help find it.

**13.2**

Claude wakes up with a distant sense of dread. Something is going to happen, but not for a while. Within the month for certain. The line in his head, scared and determined, sounds like Lysithea.

'_Leonie got our br-'_

He can guess the missing parts. Whatever it is will be in the morning, when she gets Bernadetta and Lysithea's breakfast. Which is why he is so relieved to see her come into the dining hall with one of the two. Less so when he spots the third person.

"Morning, Claude," Leonie greets. "You remember Bernadetta? And this is Dorothea. Ladies, Claude von Riegan."

Claude looks the amazingly put-together teen in the eye and smiles as casual as possible, "A pleasure to meet you.

Dorothea grins back, cutely with a predator's glint in her eyes, "Likewise. Leonie was telling me you were a part of the first group of students to participate in the obstacle course," Dorothea says, warming her hands around the morning soup bowl. She blinks slowly, hyperalert to his actions, "I'm not doing it myself, but I am going to go and cheer on the other Black Eagle students."

There's a threat on the horizon, and he really doesn't want to leave Leonie until it passes. She and Lysithea are keys. This person, another Eagle, taking interest in his soon-to-be-classmate is grating him the wrong way. He needs…

Claude wants someone to watch his back, and so far Leonie is the only one he believes won't turn for a better deal. Even Hilda, no matter how much he adores her, only puts up with him because she's his second for the class leadership. The gemstones keep her satisfied for now, the praise from her family and disdain for the actual House Leader position keeps her from destroying him, but she makes the threats and promises very clear if he displeases her.

He's seen how nobles and commoners alike greet Leonie, sometimes even stop to chat as she passes. Of the Golden Deer commoners, she is the only one capable of guarding his position should he need the help.

With Bernadetta, if he believes the rumors, he can understand the clinging after her traumatic entrance. If some other class tries to use Leonie's connections for themselves…

No emotions in his eyes, hand under his chin, Claude keeps smiling, "Oh? I guess I should go too. All of the future Golden Deer students are already here, just a few left to run the course."

Not that he cares much about them beyond their potential use. Introductions weren't exactly the _best_. Besides, Claude already knows who he wants for his seven.

Leonie draws his eyes, her smile still in place as her eyebrows twitch, "I'm running it again with Bernadetta."

It's a stare down, a bit of anger stirring because _she's switching, isn't she_? Maybe she'll be an inside person for him, Claude's counting on her connection with Lysithea if that's the case. It better not have been because of Dorothea. Leonie wouldn't switch for just Bernadetta.

"Did you know they're allowed support items?"

Claude's smile doesn't so much as twitch, "You would have known if you went to see it."

Doesn't show how his mind whirls to get her to stay. He needs…. _Wants_ her in the seven. Strength alone, she's near top of the commoners. The other six Golden Deer who didn't travel with them are so much weaker, even those with Crests.

Leonie rolls her eyes and head, "I'm usually helping Flayn tune instruments at that time. It honestly wouldn't surprise me if Seteth sets up this thing in the exact time he knows she won't be watching."

"Oh?" Dorothea mutters. "I haven't met Flayn yet."

"She's Seteth's little sister," Claude elaborates without thought. He's still staring down Leonie, mind slowly gearing towards how to cut her out if need be. If she goes into another class, he needs her to struggle within it to keep her loyalty. "I haven't seen them interact much, but he can be very protective of her. Almost too much."

Leonie snorts behind her apple. "Did you get the shovel talk, too?"

Bernadetta stutters and squeaks from between the ladies, "W-what's a s-shovel… _talk_?"

His mind stops for a moment, because Leonie has that look on her face. The one that follows with an 'oh, a person told me about it while I was helping them' or 'small town village thing'. Whatever it is, it's always interesting. Maybe that's why he really wants her so much. Even if she's lying – and for the life of him, Claude cannot image Leonie lying – she always has something fascinating to say.

An important thing in your body, that can also cause heart disease?

The ground under their feet moving, and because of this the star positions are the same only certain times a year?

Hurt a loved one, and no one will find your body?

Claude's never heard things like this before. It seems no one has. Which means Leonie's crazy, lying, or hiding something.

He's never liked letting go of entertainment. When Leonie tosses an apple she can't possibly have put in her side bag – Claude's made a point to know the dimensions, it isn't possible – he looks the picture of innocence and begins to ask, "Do you have any other-"

He catches the pear she tosses his way. Blinks at the different fruit, and then laughs because _still impossible_, "How'd you know what I was going to ask?"

Maybe, he wants to know where she can keep so many things out of sight. Another mystery, another reason to keep her in the main class of eight.

"I keep several fruits on me at all times, but I guess I kind of do eat apples more than others. I like being surprised with how sweet or sour they can be. Ah," she squints towards the roof, "Bernadetta, are you almost ready to go? We'll need to sign-in with Seteth if I'm remembering right."

The teen squeaks and chugs back her soup. Claude follows her gaze to the window.

Dorothea protests, "There isn't a need to rush."

"We're about fifteen minutes away from the hour. There's bound to be a lineup. From what I've, um," Leonie coughs, eyes adverting to the sides of their heads, "heard about the other _times_, I'd rather see about us getting into a group that can do it in under thirty minutes."

Claude feels the snicker leave, only just managing to swallow the joy he feels. The pride. No one has beaten any of their records yet, "It's the climbing wall that gets them stuck. Seteth put on some kind of ward that makes it impervious to magical attacks."

"Raphael could probably punch through it," Leonie says as she slings an arm over Bernadetta's increasingly shaking shoulders. "We've got this. Worst comes to worst, I'll just get you over the wall and run around it myself. I'm the support item, remember? Not an actual competitor."

Claude just about chokes at the relief that sings in his veins. He covers the feeling with a bite of the pear. He'll keep the plans for _just in case_, but it's a weight lifted now that he won't have to use them. Won't have to risk whatever trust Leonie has foolishly put in him breaking at a manipulation gone wrong. He can live without her, has no real need for her with her commoner status and less strength than many with Crests, but he wants to have her support. It would make things so much easier to not separate from her, even though that's exactly what he has Hilda doing for him and the student body with the rumors. Rumors, which Leonie pays no mind to. Or, maybe it's because Hilda started them. The relationship between ladies is a good indicator of what will happen if he screws up.

And then, it's just him and the new girl. Claude smiles, teeth like a sword blade, "I have no interest in a romantic relationship."

Dorothea startles, the charm falling off into something more smug, "Well, I'm glad that is out of the way then. Are you this blunt with every lady, or am I special?"

"Special's a word for it," he takes a bit of the pear, very determinedly not looking at her breasts like several people who've glanced over. "Leonie doesn't drag just anyone out to meet me in the morning. Were you her new weight, or just happy coincidence?"

"…Coincidence," Dorothea's grin is sweet, but her eyes are as cutting as his own can be. "Though, now that I think about it, we did meet when she came back for Bernadetta. That is not a common occurrence, from what little I've heard."

"It isn't," he agrees. "So, Lady Dorothea, why did she bring you here?"

The teen hums, "I do not know. Maybe she thought _you_ needed more friends."

"Ouch," he feigns a wound. "But plausible. So, what were you doing before you were with the Countess?"

"Living with my father," Dorothea bares her teeth is a charming, cutthroat smile. "Where were you before you were with Duke Riegan?"

"Living with my mother," is his barebones reply, grin just as mean and sweet. He cuts the tension moment by forcibly relaxing and turning back to breakfast, "What classes are you looking forward to?"

It's too bad Leonie made friends with the, so far, one person in the Empire who can keep up with him. All the others are so focused it's hard for them to see around their goals.

_Oh well_, all the easier to spin them in circles. At least now he knows to keep an eye out, lest Dorothea ruin his fun.

**13.3**

Claude and Dorothea talk about nothing of importance while waiting at the obstacle course. There is a mix of deflection and blunt responses before they settle on scoring the students by looks.

"She is a six at best," Dorothea disagrees, pursing her lips. "Blue hair is not common enough to be wearing objects without the colour in it. All that yellow makes her pop in a- oh my. It looks like Leonie's made some friends."

Claude's counterarguments die as he follows her gaze.

"Orange hair, sparkles in the light, with a blonde partner who looks ready to scream. That must be Sylvain Gautier and Ingrid Galatea. I have to say, this is a surprise."

"How so?"

"Oh? I would have thought the… _tales_ would have reached across the Alliance. Sylvain flirts with anything in a skirt."

Claude can't help the laugh, "And, what was it, Ingrid? Who's she?"

"His impulse control, not that it does much good. It is odd to see them talking with Leonie and Bernadetta. Leonie is a three at best, and Sylvain doesn't go after anyone younger than him by a year."

_At least he has some decency_, "It's her hair cut, right?"

"Amongst other things," Dorothea sighs, but Claude's more stuck on watching what Leonie's doing. He follow's the gaze of the waver to a group of Lions preparing for the course. "My roommates are convinced she's actually a man. They disagree with Seteth for allowing her to stay in an all-girl's dorm, even with proof she is female."

His eyes stick to a person on the way back to Leonie. A blond teen who stares at her. Claude narrows his eyes, focusing more on the odd look than the conversation, "Proof?"

"They've walked in on her changing. Apparently she has no shame," Dorothea titters.

The boy is watching Leonie with an expression Claude knows he's seen before. He can't place it, but it doesn't leave a good feeling behind seeing it aimed towards _his_ classmate.

Then Dorothea's words hit and give the push to look back to Leonie, who isn't paying her watcher any mind. He chuckles along, even though it's odd. Of all of them, he'd expect himself and Leonie to be the ones to lock doors, even though the Monastery frowns on it.

_Unless she has nothing worth stealing._

**13.4**

Claude slings and arm over Leonie's shoulders, blocking her from the view of the watching Lions, "How was it this time?"

"About the same," she responds with a grin, elbow brushing against his side, "though I missed having a helping hand."

There is a stab of joy at the words. A loud thump of his heart. He brushes it off as he lowers his arm, but still makes sure to be between her and the others. She won't leave for Bernadetta or Dorothea, but he doesn't want to risk the group watching her.

He doesn't move too fast towards the scared teen, just enough that Leonie flanks and Bernadetta knows he means no harm. It's a step up that Bernadetta doesn't run or spiral as soon as he talks with her. Now that he can see her, the bags under her eyes are a little less smudged than usual.

Maybe with a bit of confidence, they can make a spy out of her yet.

**13.5**

"Alright," Claude decides he's going to ask once, and then drop it. As long as it stays away from him and the possible bad feeling to come, he'll leave it to the Knights. He stands during their dinner, making sure his group of seven looks towards him. The newcomer Golden Deer never seem to eat with them, always early or late. They also don't interact with the group much beyond Hilda, Lorenz, and Leonie from what he's seen. The only reason Claude knows more than the basics about them was because of the reports he's writing, "who here has been waylaid by the Phantom of the Monastry?"

Hilda, Lorenz, and Leonie. The only one he'd been expecting was Lorenz, what with how often he's been imposing date requests on the female population. The other reasons make sense, even though it irks him that the phantom laid hands on his classmates. Claude doesn't let the sting of anger show on his face, forcing his thoughts away from calculating ways to trap the elusive figure.

It doesn't irritate his bad feeling, so it isn't something worth investigating further until the next problem has passed. At least, that's what Claude tries to tell himself.

He really wants to know how to get around the empathetic sense all Crest owners are supposed to have. Now that he thinks about it, he should really begin practicing again.

**13.7**

"And just because you don't want-" Hilda pauses her scolding.

"I know I don't have to be cruel," Claude decidedly doesn't groan, "but they don't even have the courage to face me alone. I can't take their confessions of seriously, never mind kindly, when-"

"Claude."

"Hilda," he playfully mocks back.

"Has anyone told Lysithea about the thing?"

His eyebrows furrow, lips turning into a pout, "What thing?"

"The class _placement_ thing."

It takes a moment longer to connect the dots. His eyes go wide, gulping, "Do you think Lorenz did it?"

Hilda grinds her teeth and marches away, "Change of plans, we're heading to my room."

**13.8**

Lysithea takes it well, all things considering. She watches them, wary, "And this isn't one of your… jokes?"

"I wouldn't let him joke about this," Hilda states.

The sit in the Golden Deer hopeful's area, Lysithea on Leonie's old bed, Penelope's area now.

"Really?"

"I swear on my family's name, Lysithea."

The small, young teen hisses in a breath. Looks between Claude's unusually serious expression and Hilda's patient acceptance. Finally, Claude wonders aloud, "You don't seem happy about this."

"I wanted to get in on my own merit," Lysithea hisses, face getting a blotchy red. "I'll be one of the youngest to ever be accepted into the main class. What a _joke_. No one's going to take me seriously or think I deserve the spot. I can't ever talk with Seteth about receding it because if they want me in that badly then they'll just stick me back in regardless. No, I have to get better. I can't show any weakness in the trials. I have to- have t-to-"

"Whoa, hey," Claude swoops down beside her, arm slinging over her shoulder for all of a moment. Lysithea flinches away and he turns to give attention instead of physical contact. "Don't cry. If you cry, then Hilda will cry-"

"Hey!"

"-and then I'll start crying," Claude jokes. "You're already talented with magic. _Really_ talented. That alone will get you into the Academy. And if you look at your competition, Leonie and Raphael are really the only ones you might have trouble taking down. Everyone is so skinny and weak, a kick behind their knee will topple them. Seriously, Lysithea, you're fine. No one will look down on you."

"T-then will you stop calling me a kid?!"

"Not until you're taller than one of us."

"Ugh," Lysithea groans, smacking his arm with the strength of a butterfly. "You're such a jerk. I-" she falters, "I guess I can't tell anyone about this, can I?"

"Orders from Seteth," Claude shrugs. "No one else can know. I'm sure it won't just be our group, so at least we can have fun guessing the other handpicked students in the Eagles and Lions."

"No question there," Hilda speaks up, rolling her eyes. "The princess, her retainer, and the Prime Minister's kid for the Eagles. The prince, his retainer, and his three childhood friends for the Lions. I would not want to be in that class."

Lysithea wrinkles her nose. It's adorable. "I could guess those Eagles, but how do you know about the Lions?"

"My friends told me."

Claude translates it as her gossip group. Lysithea understands that as well, given her distaste. Still, went much better than expected. In fact, he's almost certain he can sway Lysithea into a tentative partnership. She needs reasons to prove herself because of her age, he wants a strong magic user on his side. Best part, it might even be a two-for-one with Leonie sticking to Lysithea.

Speaking of which, _where is Leonie?_

His paranoia is getting worse the longer this bad feeling sticks around.

**14.1**

Claude is on edge, as though the day teeters something. His nightmares, of which he remembers only bells tolling, aren't helping his peaking anxiety. However, breakfast goes as normal. He sticks close to Leonie, greets Lysithea, Bernadetta, and their other roommate, before finally going back to his room to exercise in the empty space.

The jittering of energy means he wants to do something, and the only helpful side is that it isn't a full moon. He'd be _worse_ if this continues to the full moon. After hours working out and stretching, he's ready to move. Except, the moment he steps outside he's waylaid by a messenger saying that he's to go to Seteth's office. Claude is polite thanking them, even if he'd really rather go exploring when everyone's busy with the sword tournament. Though, now that he measures the sun, it's got to be over soon.

Seteth's door is locked, and no one seems to be in. _Figures_. As much as he'd like to try and pick it, the knights guarding Rhea's door are watching him a little too closely.

He doesn't have to wait long.

Four people, all male, leave Rhea's audience chambers. One is that Sylvain guy, another the blond who stares at Leonie. The third is someone who has the markings of a Duscur citizen – Claude' first time seeing them outside of drawings – while the fourth is all dark hair and gloom, storming off, hand reaching for a weapon that isn't there. There is a bit of that weird glaze to their expressions as they go, though the blond shakes it off fastest. Seteth comes out of the room and guides him towards his office.

"Ah, Claude, good of you to make it," Seteth isn't smiling, but then again he never really is. Claude can't get a word in edgewise as the man unlocks his door. "Come in you two. Have a seat."

Claude almost holds out a hand, awkwardly running it through his hair at the last second of remembrance, _they don't do that here_. "Claude von Riegan."

"Dimitri Blayddid," he nods cordially. Looks over his shoulder, "And this is Dedue."

The Duscur student nods, "I shall wait out here for you, your highness."

"Inside, boys," Seteth warns, "and shut the door." Waits for them to take his seat, ignoring their questions by laying out three folders for Dimitri. "As Claude has been selected to take leadership of the Golden Deer house next year, you have been selected as the Blue Lion's house leader, Dimitri. While you have written your choice to us, I implore you to consider all options before selecting a second in command."

"Ahh, that will not be necessary, Seteth," Dimitri replies with a thin smile. Claude's more interested that the prince of the Holy Kingdom – because the Empire's heir is female and that's the only other possible royalty – expected he would be the House Leader before stepping foot here. "Dedue is my only choice for such a position."

"…I see," the man nods, disappointment creating hard lines on his face. "Well then-"

**14.2**

Seteth doesn't get a chance to continue, for there are bells tolling. Claude just about rips the knife from the prince's waistband and goes running, the sounds of bells echoing with the blood in his veins.

For all the good it can do, he despises the forewarning some days.

"Those are alarm bells," Seteth says, focusing back on them, face shutting into a mimicry of someone who's _seen_ things. "The Monastery will be going on lockdown. Return to your rooms at once, we will finish this discussion later."

Dimitri, like the good little prince he is, immediately jumps to help, "Is there anything we can do to assist?"

"Staying out of our way," Seteth warns him. "You have no experience here, nor do we know your capabilities. Someone will be by to check on the students. Do not leave your room until sanctioned."

"Yes, sir," Claude drawls, standing and with no intention of returning until he must. "Come on, your highness. The Lion's dorms are further away from the rest."

"Oh, no, you do not have to escort me."

"I'm not. I just don't want to run into anything alone, and you happen to have a bodyguard."

**14.5**

From what little he's managed to gather from the guards before he was manhandled into his room, there was a prison escape. Claude didn't even realize the Monastery had a prison; it's well known Rhea is trigger happy with her executions. _Likely_, he thinks, _because she never kills them herself._

"Claude, are you even listening to me?"

"I'm listening, Lorenz," he sighs and catches the wooden ball that was spinning on his fingertip. "I'm in no hurry to go out again. If you want to risk Seteth's wrath or whatever caused the alarm, then be my guest."

The teen sputters and ends up huffing, storming back to his bed. Raphael asks, "Do either of you want to play cards now?"

"You know what?" Claude mutters to himself, sitting up. "Why not? Strip poker or tag team?"

Lorenz sputters more about him being uncouth and inappropriate to lead the Alliance, but sits down anyways. They end up together for a regular poker match, and Claude catches onto the commoners' game early. Ignatz has a great mask, while Raphael loses on purpose. By the time lunch rolls around and they're free to leave, Ignatz has three quarters of the winnings and Lorenz has lost the most.

The noble Gloucester doesn't take it too well, huffing and joining up with the teens from the other all-male Golden Deer dorm for lunch. Claude's roped into Hilda's details of what she could pull together between the dorms and the cafeteria, and it's because of the gorgeous, smart distraction that he doesn't notice his blood still pounds with a warning. Not until two people join their table, and the air in his lungs freezes at counting only one Golden Deer.

"Hey, Lysithea, Bernadetta," Claude greets like he's not debating on whether to seek out his missing classmate or not. "Are you two okay?"

"_We're_ fine," Lysithea grumbles. "_Leonie's_ an idiot."

"Oh?" Claude has to put his fork down, but there's already a dent in the silverware. "What did she do?"

Lysithea details a workout routine that's _too much_. It apparently exhausted Leonie and she slept through most of the alarm, even now is still asleep. The girl finish lunch quickly and are whisking away a tray for the missing Deer before Bernadetta can work herself into a panic attack. Claude discreetly straightens out his fork and resolves to check on the orange haired girl.

Only, she's not in her room when he goes.

And he's not sure why he's worried enough to go searching even though there are several more important things to do.

**14.6**

Claude isn't sure why, but the worry twists harder in his chest, stealing his breath as he watches Leonie watch the sky. From here she looks small; smaller than normal. Maybe it's the way her shirt blows a bit freer. Maybe it's how her arms tremble, holding her up as she leans back. For a moment, he wants to tuck her away in the dining hall and feed her enough meals for her collarbones to hold some fat and stop jutting out.

The moment passes as he follows an urge, because she's never shaken him off. He keeps his touch light, only making contact with her eyebrows and nose, "Guess who?"

"Hey Claude," busting all his expectations on the people of Fódlan, she leans back into him with a smile. His hands go to her shoulders, just as boney even through the hard muscles. She _feels_ small. "What's up?"

"Oh, you know," he sets her right, so he doesn't have to see her arms tremble again. Sits next to her. _Even her fingers look smaller_. Claude isn't sure how her fingerless gloves are staying on. None of this feels _right_. "Checking in on everyone like a responsible leader. Didn't see you at lunch, and Lysithea wanted me to make sure you weren't exerting yourself."

Her smile distracts him from the sense of _wrong_, "As much as I don't like taking a day off, I do enjoy sleeping in once in a while."

"Yah, about that, Lysithea mentioned you were exercising yesterday, but what did you do that tired you out so much?"

The stories match, so if there's a lie it's from Leonie. _But she wouldn't lie_, Claude chuckles at the thought. _Everyone does at some point_. "That almost sounds like Hilda's exercise regimen back in Goneril. What made you decide to try it?"

"No wonder she's so strong," they're still watching each other. He's been told his eyes can be the scariest thing about him, but she's not faking her gaze. "With the sword tournament over, I thought I'd do something to make up for lack of rushing about. Just my luck I'm outside the gate when the alarms sound."

_Focus_, he thinks. Tries to pull up a potent amount of killing intent, but Leonie doesn't twitch. She never does. "And you didn't think about returning?"

"I didn't know what the bell was for. For all I knew, there was some big-wig or parade or something and I would have interrupted a very delicate meeting."

Claude laughs, ignores the term he doesn't understand, and switches tactics to a more cheat skill. He doesn't like sensing for people, not after all the years of being rejected, and especially not on people he sort-of likes. It's always emotionally difficult to get the truth of their feelings, even if it's a great lie detector. He doesn't believe Leonie would lie, but there's something wrong that sings in his blood and tells him the tragedy is yet to come. "Well, just know I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks," Leonie gently elbows his arm. It's barely a whisper but he appreciates her deviation from Fódlan standards. It does make him feel bad for what he's going to do next. "I'm glad you're okay too."

With that, she leans back on trembling arms to watch the skies once more, apparently not feeling the chill that normally comes when he senses on purpose. Claude, on his part, is stunned for a moment. Much like an Almyran, he can't feel her. No emotional feedback. He searches her face for clues – having become adept at body language from his childhood in Almyra – and Leonie really does seem happy he's okay. She might actually like him.

"What?"

Claude blinks and realizes she staring at him again. Realizes he's been staring for longer than appropriate.

Claude stuffs away the urge to hug her and changes the subject _hard_, "Did you know it can snow on Monastery grounds?"

"What?" her eyes widen, "really?"

"It's only done it twice from what I've heard, but both times people started going crazy and calling it the end of times."

Leonie laugh, "Of course they would. It's not like Serios wrote about the Goddess taming the colds or anything."

It's the way she says it.

The _way_ she _says_ it.

It's dangerous territory, but if his suspicion is right then Leonie might be someone who can help him tear down a wall. "Why do you say it like that? Wasn't that one of the visions the Goddess blessed upon Serios?"

"She still had to write it for it to be passed down."

_That's a very safe answer_, Claude thinks, a little giddy. Not only is her block against empathy a familiar sense of _home_, she doesn't quote scripture or refer everything back to religion. Even Hilda will reference lines at him or create jewellery with symbols or symbolizing the religious marks or objects. Ignatz and Raphael pray together in the chapel a few times each week. Lorenz uses it to back his noble claim, Marianne prays every chance she gets, and Lysithea can quote the history of Fódlan and the Goddess' intervention or blessings whenever someone asks a question about why the world is the way it is.

Claude isn't sure Leonie's ever given blessing for the food. He feels like she must have. "That she did. You ready for dinner? I can smell it from here."

"Yes, please," Leonie groans, stretching and wincing as so many things crack. Claude offers a hand to pull her up before he remembers the rules. She takes it anyways. "Thanks."

His heart beats loudly in his chest. "Anytime."

He really hopes that's a lie.

**14.8**

Claude doesn't believe in things like fate, but if he did he would have called this hate at first sight.

"Edelgard von Hresvelg," the princess introduces herself. "This is my vassal and second in command, Hubert von Vestra."

"If Lady Edelgard loses her position of House Leader for any reason," Hubert drawls in a voice that is both empty and threatening, "I will be sure to eliminate all who had a hand in it."

_What a fun guy_, Claude thinks, sarcasm just wanting to burst out. He is as composed as he can be while also feeling his heart pound with an alien _kill kill kill_, "If she loses it, I'm pretty sure your country would rebel, what with needing the archbishop's blessing to take the throne."

The two Eagle students share a look. Claude makes sure to keep his hands out front, clasped yet hiding how his nails bite into skin. Finally, Edelgard nods, "Indeed. Let us hope it does not come to this."

Inside, Claude is practically begging for Dimitri to show up and stop this awful tension. It feels like every second word out of his mouth is two steps back from a positive relationship with the other House Leader. At least with His Royal Awkwardness, Claude can sit back and laugh at the wreck sure to happen. Finally, Seteth comes from wherever he was to practically demand Claude teach Edelgard, along with Dimitri, how to fill out forms before dismissing Claude and leading the royal's group away.

Claude lets out a huff and stares at the ceiling, the irrational anger gone, "It won't be like this all year, right?"

**15.1**

Claude wakes up with the taste of dust on his tongue and screaming being the only thing he remembers. Whatever goes wrong, it happens today. He checks through the words in his hidden book, reminds himself _breakfast_. If he can get through the morning, then Claude thinks he'll be fine.

Except Leonie drops two trays on the table with an apple already half eaten in her mouth. He can't remember the last time she had a full breakfast with him and thinks he should have noticed earlier. No matter how she keeps pulling out fruits from nowhere, it isn't healthy if the one he sees her eat is all she eats for the morning. _No wonder she's been getting smaller_.

Leonie's gaze doesn't stray to the warm and cold, pleasant smelling meals before her, "Is that all you're eating?"

She doesn't look hungry as she finally glances down, "I'll eat more with the girls. This way I don't get a talking to for keeping the trays in plain sight."

'_Leonie got our br-'_

He's moments away from sitting on her if that's what it means to stop whatever is going to happen. In fact, he isn't going to leave her side if it means the taste of dust leaves his mouth. Claude isn't sure he succeeds as relaxed, but all the practice of hiding how he really feels has always payed off, "Stay here."

Leonie jolts, and he enjoys the rare moment of surprising her.

"If anyone gives you trouble," Claude bluffs, "just let them know you won't be supplying the good stuff anymore. That is why the staff here likes you… Am I close?"

"On the money," Leonie stares a him a bit more before shaking her head and smiling a bit wider. "I give most to the orphanage in the lower village, but the lands here are so bountiful I can get a lot with little effort. Good practice for when we have to sign up for jobs."

He can't believe he got it right. "With what you bring in, I don't think anyone else will get the hunting job." _Now, keep her talking_, "How is Bernadetta? Lysithea told us about your unfortunate run-in with Hubert."

It occurs to him that Lysithea may be in trouble, but unlike Leonie she'll attack loud and noticeable with magic. What little he's observed of Leonie and Raphael's sparring, she's quiet when she's injured. With how tired she's been from her workout, Leonie's nowhere near strong enough to cause a larger scene.

He tunes back in at the mention of the potential spy girl, "Hubert was definitely not a good one to start with. Maybe we can meet a few today. Bernie- ugh, Bernadetta- she is okay with me, right?"

"She likes you," Leonie says after a bite of her apple. He feels something like pride, all up until Leonie finishes with, "It's still harder for her with males, but it's all good since you've been holding back for her."

Claude chokes, pride quickly turning into hesitancy. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Leonie smiles sweetly, tone bland. "So you haven't been making people cry with a bit of cold logic and biting remarks at lunch this past week? My mistake. Must have been another Claude."

He begins ramping up the panic until he realizes she's _joking_. Leonie is trying to be funny. As though she isn't mad about him hurting people. _Purposefully_ hurting people. He smiles sharply and tries to hurt her with bite and killing intent, "Well, there are two other Claude's signed up for our year. It's an honest mistake."

But it _never_ seems to work, and it is both great and terrible. He can't push her away like this, and he can't use as a weakness. He almost feels bad when she smiles like she's grateful, "Of course. Still, thank you for being kind and patient with Bernadetta. I am honestly worried about how school starting may undo her progress."

_Teasing, contact, something has to work_, "I wouldn't worry about that," he stretches out, arms going behind his head as he kicks her under the table. Leonie rolls her eyes, but that's it. "She's a lot stronger than you give her credit for."

He can't bring himself to call her Ms. Pinelli. He doesn't want to see the distaste unless it's aimed at him, not just at the proper name.

Claude, finally able to think past whatever nightmares he can't remember, is finally realizing how much he's come to enjoy their chats. Enjoys the time with someone who doesn't berate him every other sentence and has more in common, more to talk about.

If he was one to frighten easily, he'd be terrified. Outside his family, the most he ever wanted a companion like this was Nader, and even then teaching Claude started out as a punishment. Something the boy could never forget, even as they grew close enough that Nader would offer him a place if he ever came back.

For a moment, Claude wishes Leonie was his pen pal. That he didn't have to realize he wants her on his side because he's been watching for something awful to happen.

"I know you'll need to be introduced even-"

"Why do you say that?"

He is sharp and cold and wants her to leave even though he doesn't want to separate until the day is done and gone. He doesn't know why he doesn't like the princess of the Empire, but he doesn't want to hear her name fall from the mouths of his classmates.

Leonie and Lysithea are already in the Eagle nest and he doesn't want them to switch, doesn't want to lose their strength to someone who doesn't know them.

"Claude… at this point you're inheriting the roundtable's only position that must directly deal with the Empire and Kingdom leaders. Wait, have you met Dimitri yet?"

Claude huffs and avoids, "Are you on first-name basis with His Royal Highness?"

"Yes?"

Claude straightens, braces his arms, and tries to feel past the familiar block. Leonie looks like she's telling the truth, looks concerned, but-

"He said to use it, but I'm not good at this whole royal thing so maybe I shouldn't? …Did Lysithea not tell you? We met and trained a bit with him and Dedue before the whole Hubert mess."

"No," Claude says, realizing that _this_ is a nightmare. "She didn't. What was he like?"

_If that prince came and hooked her_-

"Nice, I guess?" Leonie pulls out an orange, which Claude has to smother a laugh at. There was no way she had that in her bag. "We all shared training tips. Bernadetta trusts Dedue more than him, so Dimitri and I ended up showing disarming tactics since she wouldn't take any of his advice."

He finds he can breathe easy again, anger derailed. Leonie is still his classmate and, most importantly, more inclined to his side. Bad impression from Hubert, and no lasting impact from Dimitri. Claude knows he can beat that any day. "I guess we should say hi if we see them around. And the perfect chance to introduce Bernadetta to everyone would be at the course today."

"Ugh," Leonie tosses up her hands. "You know I'm helping Flayn today."

"Bring her along. The more the merrier." _More reason to piss off Seteth_, _and maybe this way, there will be more motivation from the Church if the world starts to end this morning._

**15.5**

The morning has come and gone, and now Claude has more important things to plan for.

Somehow, Leonie convinces the children of the Empire's political leaders to eat lunch with herself, Lysithea, and Claude. Well, them and Dorothea. They're even sitting with a political hostage for the Empire who, up until they arrived, was being ostracized from her house like Claude expected to be from his. Leonie's managed to also deflect probing questions aimed towards them and carry a conversation that makes Petra both comfortable and entices others to join in.

Claude isn't sure how he missed this level of social awareness from her before, but he's not underestimating it again. While Hilda is great at getting information, Leonie is great at keeping it. This is a useful skill as long as he can get it on his side. If he could get away with it, he'd have kept an arm around the ladies flanking him and stare Edelgard's wary and hungry gaze down. As it is, all he can do is silently give support to them against the single-focused Empire kids. Anything he says will be taken as a weakness on their part.

When Hubert implies Leonie can't get in on her own merit, Claude dies a bit inside not being able to brag she has three of the top ten records on the obstacle course. That she's better with a sword than most nobles. If he was really being generous, Claude would say she is the second-best archer coming into their year, and he's only seen her shoot twice.

Instead he taps her foot, and Leonie doesn't even twitch. He helps her leave Edelgard hanging with a change in topic. It's weird to feel so smug about having someone flow the conversation with him. He's used to putting his foot in his mouth or grating nerves until they can't put up with him.

Leonie is weird.

_In a good way_, he decides, resisting the urge to play footsies.

**15.6**

The day is not over but, no matter how much he's relieved the dust taste is gone, Claude sticks close to Leonie's side. He's already had Edelgard try to assess her, no need for Dimitri or some other force to nab her now. There is still a feeling in his chest that until he can count everyone at dinner tonight, they aren't safe.

He's proven right in some way when an explosion goes off on the other side of the Monastery. It's loud, ground shaking, and for a moment Claude is terrified that he's about to taste dust and hear screaming he can't place to a person.

"What was that?"

It's Leonie's hissing that draws him back. Helps him center as they watch smoke rising in the distance. "No idea. You start rounding up-"

"Hey, whoa, _no_. I'm faster than you. I can make it over-"

"_No_," Claude feels the word rip from his chest, harsh and with feelings he doesn't care to place right now. There are seven people here he wants alive at the end of the day. He's going to gather them all and not let them out of his sight. The odd, singular thought of Leonie disappearing and having to replace her turns his insides a burning cold. "We stay here, then. Make sure the students are accounted for and not getting in the way."

"Alright," Leonie agrees, easily. When he really looks at her, there something in her expression he can't place. It might be trust, but it really shouldn't be.

Only when there's a tug on his hand does he realize he's holding her, using her to ground to reality. Claude really, really doesn't want to let go. The Church should be dealing with this, it's their job to ensure everyone's safety. They should go get Lysithea and stay put in the Golden Deer hopeful's dorms.

"I'm right here," Leonie says the right words to calm him. Enough like a promise, with confidence she can follow through. "Won't be going anywhere without you."

Claude pulls together every shred of authority he can muster and steps back, dropping her and trying to radiate the confidence he doesn't quite feel. This loss of control is only made worse by knowing it was coming and not remembering. It makes it worse, because times like these he considers what it means to become a Major Crest holder.

Leonie is still looking to him for orders. Belief in him. Something he's wanted for ages, and now's not the time to give it up, "Thank you. Let's go make sure no one else runs off."

"You got it, boss."

He cracks a grin and starts jogging, liking the title and power it gives.

**15.7**

His seven are there, safe and sound. A lot of students had panic attacks or mentally fell apart from the memories the explosion brought up. It's disheartening to hear, but Claude knows he's made of stronger stuff. Fódlan doesn't have the same kind of celebrations as Almyra does. Claude does wonder who he'll have to watch out for as the year goes by. Lorenz, Lysithea, and Marianne appear sheltered, while the others have had to live with constant attacks or fighting just to continue their livelihoods. It's a tossup of who will be able to handle their first kill and who will be a target on the battlefield.

Claude glances over to Leonie, where she's fallen silent in thought, toying with her food. At least one person besides him who's already killed before. Hilda likely has as well, even if she isn't allowed to admit it. He'll need to get them in on watching the others after their first battle, keep an eye out for signs of downward spirals.

Speaking of, his poison is finally ready. The feeling warning him of impending doom hasn't quite dissipated. If Claude doesn't awaken from a nightmare, he's going to douse the good food tomorrow. He's been itching for a chance to test the Monastery's security measures, and what better way than the with the food? They get an increase in security once everyone is poisoned, and his reputation will take a major hit the moment Hilda connects it to him. Win-win.

For as much as he likes her, she's been upping the price for requests. She wants Claude to do something big besides turn down date request or duels. It may be cruel, but he doesn't feel guilty for the plan. Especially if it gets people to stop trying to manipulate or talk to him for their own gain.

_Nope_, no guilt at all.

**16.1**

Claude reads the letter from his uncle, the man all but confirming he knows exactly who his pen pal is. There is something about a visit, but Claude feels too betrayed to read any further.

Now he really doesn't feel bad about going and causing future chaos.

**16.2**

It's disgustingly easy to sneak into the kitchens. Claude goes for the soup pot, filled with enough nutrients and goodies that only nobles or people splurging could afford.

He may have planned this out a long time ago.

His first thought may not have been as tame as the consequences of this particular poison. Claude dumps it in and strolls out, no one the wiser.

_No going back now._

**16.3**

Claude sits next to Matilda and Lorenz, across from Hilda. He slips in the antidote, but without an undiluted chug all it's really doing is lessening the effects. The closest thing to an apology he'll give for the scheme.

He takes petty pleasure seeing most of the future Eagle and Lion students eating the poisoned broth. Double checks Lysithea and Marianne didn't get any.

_Nope_.

All good.

**16.5**

Claude counters every point Seteth makes. He knows the man thinks he's poisoned the student population, but there's no solid proof. Everything is circumstantial evidence at best. Not sick: poison immunity. Was seen around the dinning hall: everyone has to eat sometime. Unknown dust and liquids found in his room: Claude has an interest in poisons and Oswald gave him permission to collect samples to send back for later exploration. Seteth has him repeat his day over and over, hoping Claude makes a mistake. He doesn't, even implies accusing a noble heir like this without proof is unprofessional.

Seteth has a knight watch him until he comes back with Leonie in tow. If the man thinks she can get the answers from Claude, then there's something wrong with him

"Do you know why you're both here?"

"No," Claude's a cheeky brat, but he knows this is a setup of some kind. "Are there more reports I need to fill out?"

"No, Claude," Seteth clasps his hands, tense. "You are both here because you are the only two students who ordered soup last night and are not currently holed up in the lavatories."

Silently, Claude curses and slips Leonie a look. She appears shocked, a rare instance of her smile gone. He can't believe he missed this, or that she had enough to buy the soup. Unless gathering food gives her a discount, which he needs to find out soon because that could be a key for a lot of plans. First, though, he plays innocent. As if Seteth hasn't been grilling him about his yesterday for this very reason, "What happened then? Rotten meat?"

Seteth gazes at them both evenly, "No, seeing as the students eating the same meat by itself are perfectly fine. If I were to guess, I would say someone placed a poison in the broth."

"And, what?" Claude smiles charmingly, calling Seteth all kinds of names in his head, "I don't see why we're here."

He doesn't like where this is going.

"Leonie," she quirks her eyebrows at Seteth's undivided attention, "why are you not sick?"

She sighs, "I had a gut feeling that I shouldn't eat it."

_Wait, what?_

Seteth looks very unimpressed, "A gut feeling?"

"I know it sounds bad," Claude watches her look around the room, wanting to go back to the whole _gut feeling_ thing, "but I have a kind of sixth sense about things that want to harm me. Started around the time I fell into a poison ivy bush. I can show you, if you'd like."

_Okay, so not like the Riegan Crest. It could still be some other power lost to time._

Seteth leans back, but Claude not interested in his game right now, "Alright."

Leonie stands, grabs a knife – no, a _letter opener_, - and tries to get Seteth to take the handle, "When I turn my back, throw this at me."

Claude's now cursing for an entirely different reason, a bit awed at her reckless determination.

Seteth loses his cool for the first time Claude's seen, "Ms. Pinelli! This is not a joke!"

He knows what's next before she does it. Leonie's almost pouting when she turns to Claude, "Would you mind doing it?"

He doesn't know his answer. Thankfully, Seteth takes away the sharp objects, "He most certainly will not! Return to your seat, Ms. Pinelli."

"You can call me Leonie," she grumbles. Claude's can't stop the hysterical sound from leaving his mouth. She's _great_. Claude meets her eyes and doesn't know whether he wants to demand a spar or tuck her away in a pillowed room.

Meanwhile, Seteth isn't taking this as well as Claude and tries to get her request swept under the pile of do-not-touch topics, "Leonie, not only are you not ill, there are eyewitness accounts that you did not touch the soup. I trust you realize how suspicious this looks."

_And_, Claude's back to being pissed off at him because now the trap is laid bare to see. He knows from the days spent talking with her that Leonie isn't very open at defending or talking about herself. He's proven correct when she practically goes along with Seteth, not even requesting to try her sixth sense with a less dangerous object.

_Yah_, he gets the lesson of all this, Seteth. _Actions and consequences_. Maybe Leonie's even in on it and this whole thing has been a farce, but the moment Seteth mentions suspension-

Commoners get suspensions and then expulsions. Nobles like him can take the heat, even if most never do. Claude doesn't feel guilt but a dark anger that resonates cold in his blood at the thought of Leonie not being a member of his class. Between her strength and social maneuvering, she's an asset he can't let go, "That's very underhanded, Seteth. All of this because, what, you know of my poison tolerance?"

Leonie looks surprised, a bit worried, and feels just as emotionally blank in a way that grounds him. She was willing to have a letter opened thrown at her unguarded back to prove a point. If she's really on his side, then Seteth has put her in more danger than just ignoring the hate going around the Monastery. Claude _smiles_, "I doused the broth with a laxative. They'll be fine by the end of lunch."

Seteth doesn't look affected by the promise to make his life miserable, setting to writing, "Very well. Your uncle, grandfather, and mother all wrote to me to expect this. Seeing as this is your second offence, you will be assigned work at the docks every evening for the rest of the week."

Nothing Claude can't handle, even if the scent of fish in the sun burns his sense of smell.

"Claude," Leonie's soft, almost angry voice, grounds him once more, "if you didn't do it, don't take the blame. I can handle suspension until I find out who really did it."

_Cute_, thinks the dark part of his brain, tension unravelling. _She doesn't actually think I did it_. "I did it. No need for you to get in trouble."

"That is all, Leonie," Seteth waves his free hand, head down.

"If it's all the same," her lips press together, and now she really does look angry, "I'd rather stay."

"Then you can wait outside the door."

She turns to Claude, "You alright alone?"

He remembers, _'if you need an out, I'll burst in screaming.'_

"Yah," he says quietly back. "I'll be right out."

Seteth levels him a disappointed look, but Claude really doesn't care. He has to regain the ground he lost with Leonie, and if he remembers correctly she hates poisonous things.

_Poisonous things like me_, Claude grits his teeth and accepts the punishment, taking careful note of the mention of letters. _More stuff to burn_.

**16.6**

"Are you mad?" She has to be. Has to hate him.

"At you? No. A bit peeved at Seteth, quite angry at the whole system, but we're good."

That has to be a lie, but Leonie doesn't lie. "Really? Normally people get mad when they're dragged into my schemes. Or, you know, mad I poisoned a bunch of people."

"I'm sure I'd be a bit upset if you poisoned a friend of mine, but hopefully this will make the Monastery step up their security. Could you imagine if someone had done this with a more deadly poison?!"

That's what he wanted to do at first. The fact that that's where her mind goes to, that she doesn't blame him wholly, isn't yelling or disavowing him… Claude's a bit stunned. "Wow, you… really don't care, huh?"

Leonie continues like she isn't cementing herself on Claude's side. No one's ever come out and not scolded him for a scheme. "Like I said, I can take a suspension, though I would have liked some warning. Not a fun surprise. Three strikes and I'm out, you know? So, thanks for owning up. It really means a lot."

_Oh good, she got that too_. Except, Claude's also realizing she may not still believe he did it. And he can't have her spreading the idea around that he didn't; he doesn't want anyone approaching him for an in because '_I don't believe you did it, Claude'_. Been there, done that. "Next time, I'll make sure not to get caught."

Leonie smiles at him and, okay, yah, maybe he'll include her on the next Monastery-wide plan. Something small, to confirm she really isn't working for Seteth.

**16.8**

After a lot of thought, Claude believes he can place the expression Dimitri's doing better to hide when he's around Leonie. It doesn't make sense, though. He looks not like he _sees_ her, but like he _hears_ her.

A deaf person hearing for the first time, maybe.

Whatever is his problem, Dimitri isn't going to get her. Leonie is a Golden Deer, and Claude's going to make sure it stays that way.

**16.9**

The mail room is always unguarded at night, as if a lock is enough to keep people out. Claude picks it and spends the next hour gathering all the letters with Seteth's Crest stamped on it. He sorts them into two piles, ones that reference the poison incident and ones that don't.

He burns the former, reseals the latter.

Now the noble leaders will only know their precious children got poisoned if the students write home about it. They won't, assured that the Church will deal with it.

Just like that, Claude's free from taking the hit until after the year, and even then, most will forget to mention it. He also wasn't waylaid by any phantom – no one's said much about it these days – and he isn't as tired with the full moon starting the next night.

_Easy_.

**17.1**

Leonie, Claude realizes after a question to judge how much ground he needs to get back from yesterday's incident, is one of those rare people who believes in educating the masses. It isn't a fond idea amongst nobles, and the more Claude thinks on it the more he realizes it isn't just a money problem. Different education systems, different beliefs, never mind the power most nobles enjoy because their citizens cannot read or write. A big reason why commoners are so rare in the Officer's Academy – again, besides money – is that most cannot pass the entrance bar. Unlike the Empire and Kingdom, where merchants and contractors are usually a branch of a noble's family, the Alliance doesn't have room for selective learning. Noble families aren't big trees of people, and even Gloucester with the largest nobility of them all doesn't leave their capital often.

It's the first time he's heard Leonie get passionate about something, and the more he thinks on it the more he can understand why she's up in arms as a commoner from the Alliance. Dorothea is practically a commoner, and she seems resigned to marrying. Mercedes is probably going to be a nun. Ignatz is a second son of her merchant family who can fall back on it if he needs to, and Raphael is expected to take over his family's large business.

Leonie, possibly Dorothea if her foster wasn't kind, and maybe Mercedes are the only commoners who wouldn't have gotten the full noble training.

Claude knows there must be a few other commoners in the other houses, but it's disturbing to realize only the nobles are required to obtain skills he's always thought of as _life_ _skills_.

And in Almyra it is the same. To bad there's no easy fix, or else he might have earned Leonie's loyalty then and there.

**17.3**

Assisting at the docks isn't that bad. Nobody sneers or shuns him. The only downside is the smell, but honestly Claude will take that since it stops people from hissing threats at him for the poisoning stunt.

It's funny they think they can scare him. In Almyra, he'd have to fight every person who got sick, no rests allowed. Anything the people here might to do retaliate will sour their relationship with House Riegan. No noble wants to risk that.

Except Hilda, who's giving him the silent treatment, but Claude likes her too much to use his standing against her.

**17.7**

"Is it just me," Leonie glances over her shoulder, "or is it more quiet today than usual?"

"Just you," Claude deflects. There are less people, however those that are here are quizzing each other for the lance-specific class exams starting tomorrow. He double checked today's tournament roster. All nobles.

She hums and takes his word for it, taking a bite of her second apple. There has to be some kind of magical illusion on her bag, but the last time he tried to get a feel it shocked him, "Lance tournament ends toady. Are you coming?"

"Sure," he really should get to the write ups of his thirteen classmates, all that's left is to come up with something interesting about Gregory and Linden. Their personalities are so boring, both spare noble sons who haven't quite caught on that they were sent here to find a skill, trade, or employment that will further their family names. One enjoys talking down to commoners, while the other likes hitting things. Not something Seteth would appreciate in a report. "Hey Leonie, have you had much luck making friends with the other Golden Deer."

Her smile hides her teeth as she stops her eyes from rolling, "The students here-"

"I meant in our year."

She doesn't get mad he cuts her off, but before she can answer there's a clatter at another table. Claude catches the student running out, clutching their stomach. At least it wasn't his fault this time.

Leonie turns to face him, uncaring towards the runner's plight, "Right, so, anyone specific you're thinking of?"

At least he doesn't have to lead into it, "The ones who sat with us yesterday."

Her smile parts again, showing teeth that are very white. _Right_, he needs to ask about that. Leonie said she cleans her mouth, but she deflected before he could ask what. "Well, Penelope's kind-of quiet and Lauza more than makes up for it with her outspokenness. I haven't talked much with Winston or Linden but they seem… okay. I've noticed Gregory and Tristan can be a bit sexist, and I think I confuse them? It's weird, we'll be having a conversation and then suddenly they remember I'm a woman and tell me this isn't the kinds of things I should focus on. As if they don't realize the next Emperor's a woman, the King before Dimitri's father was a woman, your great, great grandmother lead the Alliance..."

Claude draws his thoughts away from the dark spiral of Fódlan's unfortunately common arranged marriages. He'll need to ask the six – because Lorenz has made it very clear he isn't tied to anyone – if they're in a betrothal or courtship. If they don't want one, then he can offer an escape from it if they wish to join him. "Where did you learn all of that?"

"My village is boring," Leonie shrugs. "As soon as I could read, I started in on whatever I could get my hands on."

"How's your writing skill?"

She beams proudly, "Not the worst."

Claude laughs, startled from wondering if he wants to ask her about marriage or not, "But not the best?"

"No one's ever the best at anything. As long as I can read it, it's good enough for me."

His mind flashes to the scratches that tried to be words of an essay. If that really is her writing, then he can get a favour from her in exchange for help. He's had the writing practice, after all.

**18.3**

Matilda, Reggie, and Tyre lay out the forms and notes built from previous House Leaders to their predecessors.

"Learn it well," Reggie nods to Dimitri. "Blacksmithing early has saved many a life but depleted the spending money."

Claude's enjoying how ill the two others look, finally comprehending the amount of students they are to care for. Matilda doesn't show any outward emotion, but he knows she's enjoying this display as well. Weeks with Claude means she's had the worst of it, and it's about time her fellows suffered. He tries to tap her foot under the table and gets a scowl in response. _Worth a try._

"Tyre," Edelgard calls, face even whiter than usual, "is there any problem in asking fellow students to assist with these."

"No," he grunts out. "Anyone can fill these out, it only needs your signature."

Claude straightens, hissing to his mentor, "Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

"Seteth forbade me," Matilda says, cruel humor in her eyes. "He thought you would try to pass it off, and it is something you need to learn."

Seteth is right, but Claude isn't going to admit that out loud. The moment he gets the opportunity, Claude is going to delegate like a good leader should. All he needs are people to pass it off to. People who can be trusted to write for the good of their fellow classmates.

Who's he kidding? The moment Claude can, this job's being pushed onto Hilda. She needs it more than he does.

"Claude?" Dimitri calls. "How long did it take you learn the Monastery code?"

"Oh, not too long. Maybe a couple of weeks."

Edelgard chokes a bit, "Is there a cipher for this?"

"What?" Claude teases, "You don't want to learn the language of the Goddess?"

"Not if it is detrimental to my fellow students."

Reggie winces, "Don't let anyone else hear you say that. You'll get a lecture on the privilege it is to learn this stuff."

"Understood," Edelgard nods.

_Ugh_, Claude rolls his eyes. _The both of them, so serious_.

As great as it would be to make lasting connections, it seems like all work and no play for the two of them. At least his dislike for them is tempering to a moderate _watch out for them_. Neither has cracked a joke or told stories about the times they messed up. They seem to think Claude's the weird one for sharing fun learn-by-experience chaos.

Or maybe they're both mad about the poison thing. Leonie's done a pretty good job patching it up between the three with her disappointment in security, but the two other leaders also seem too interested in her to shunt her away.

Speaking of, he still needs to write up summaries for Seteth.

**18.6**

"I know," Leonie groans. "Why can't they just say what they mean?"

Raphael throws his hands out, "Right?!"

Claude comes up behind them and drops elbows on their shoulders, reaching up on his toes for Raphael's. The axe tournament is forgotten as he wants to know what's bothering them, "Hey guys, what'd I miss?"

Raphael starts bit at his appearance. It's Leonie's reaction of a wrinkled nose that bothers him, "Morning, Claude," she sniffs. "Don't tell me you worked at the docks in your uniform."

"Yes, why?"

Raphael laughs while Leonie rolls her eyes, "Just, talk to Hilda about getting some perfume. Whatever you washed with did _not_ get the smell out."

"Good to know," Claude jokes, relaxing and removing his elbows. "After a week, you sort-of learn to ignore the smell. But really, what did I miss."

"Not much," Raphael booms, pointing around the field. "There's so few people that it started later than normal."

"It's such a shame it's the last tournament," Leonie groans. "Our first day of school is in a week. It's unbelievable."

Claude chuckles, "Not looking forward to conditioning training."

"Oh yah!" Raphael exclaims. "I forgot about that! Hey, do you think they'll really make us run laps through the forest? Or maybe something like the sprints the Knights do?"

"I hope it's not sprints," Leonie mutters.

Claude elbows her arm, "What's wrong with sprints?"

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Just my personal opinion that they're only good for stamina building. I hope we all know how to run in a straight line, and we'd get a lot more use running up and down hills."

He can't help the laugh, "Not everyone can run as fast as us. Raphael, your score on the obstacle course was in the top twenty, wasn't it?"

"You bet!"

"See? We've already got the speed for our class. Everyone else needs to work on their stamina," Claude continues, point made and wanting to feel her thoughts a bit. "Imagine someone like Lysithea doing a run through the forest with no prior experience. We don't even know if she can run properly."

"Point," Leonie concedes in her weird way. "I guess I should probably work with her on that."

Raphael brings up before he can ask, "Hey, that's right! You and Felix are teaching sword skills, right?"

"It's mostly just Felix," Leonie answers, distracted by someone using a hand axe and unaware of Claude's building anxiety. "He took over for swords, I do a few other things. Feel free to join in, I'm sure you and Dedue could spar with gauntlets of you want the practice?"

"When's this?" Claude asks, just stopping his hand from grabbing her wrist. He folds his together, fingernails digging into skin.

"This Thursday is our last planned one until classes settle."

"Too bad," Claude's careful not to curse his luck, "I've got a meeting all day." With Edelgard and Dimitri, unfortunately.

"Sorry, Leonie," Raphael sighs, "the rest of the club is meeting after the extra credit tournaments. Maybe next time?"

"Don't feel bad," she laughs, mistaking their expressions. "If you can't go, or don't want to, it's okay. This week is particularly busy for everyone, and who knows. We could be teaching bad habits."

Claude's more concerned about the Lions hanging around his Deer, but of all of them Leonie and Lysithea can handle themselves. It's why he wants them so badly solidified on his side, after all.

**18.8**

In Fódlan, proposals are all about exchanging rings. Claude's heard it's all dramatic and emotional. If he gave out a ring, it'd probably be for something like a promise to someone who isn't going to fight. As much as he likes jewellery, wearing something for looks alone in combat isn't practical.

If he's going to propose – or accept a proposal – it's going to be the Almyran way. In the heat of battle, stealing them from another person's arms, or being stolen from whoever carries him.

"This is so uncute," Hilda grumbles, carried in Leonie's arms with an adorable pout. "You two owe me so much for this."

Claude is indeed having daydreams of stealing her away. Maybe sweep Leonie off her feet while he's at it. He'd get a good laugh, and it's not like it would be a real proposal.

He holds the door to the training hall for them, "You would have to stop procrastinating to look for something."

"Oh, please," Hilda pouts some more as she's placed on her feet. _Chance gone_. "Just because I don't run around like everyone else doesn't mean I don't do work."

"Hilda's gossip connections are amazing," Leonie just stops from rolling her eyes.

"Excuse you, I-" Hilda cuts off and makes a cute face. "Ugh. I was hoping they would not be here."

Edelgard and Hubert. While Claude's practically over the weird dislike of Edelgard, Hilda's annoyance towards them is only getting worse. Still, Hilda acts nice enough that it only looks like Leonie's the one she has trouble with. "Do you really not like them?"

"I am not fond of them," Hilda admits, "though it is not that I dislike them. Our social circles do not intermingle often. That, and they have done nothing to search for Monica."

Claude's mouth shuts with the jab in his side. He curls over a bit because _ouch_, didn't think Leonie was stronger than his faith shield.

Said fighter asks sweetly, "Will you be alright keeping peace for a few hours in their presence?"

Claude finishes coughing and _glares_ at his now-potential axe wielder. No matter how impressive, she let Hilda get away, "What was that for?"

"I think she had a crush on Monica and I don't want to set her off."

…

Claude knows he isn't controlling his features anymore – and he'll be angry at himself later – but right now it feels hard to _breathe_, "A- a crush? As in, Hilda was falling in love with…?"

Leonie looks worried, nodding slowly, "Well, yah. I mean, I'm not certain. But a lot of times Hilda looked to Monica like she hung the moon and stars. Or whatever the saying is."

He knows his chance isn't non-existent. Knows it the same way he knows who will be in the main class of Golden Deer next year even if he cannot remember and doesn't want to accept something like fate. Knows he'll still look at Hilda and see beauty, a bright mind, and skilled fingers.

"Oh," it doesn't make learning that Hilda has eyes for another person hurt any less. It doesn't make the thought of her and Monica together anything less than a phantom wound that, strangely, he wants to lash out because of. "Okay. Guess I just never noticed."

"I mean…" the look on her face is soft, a hesitance that grounds him because Leonie never does things by half, "I could be wrong."

He knows she's right, and it's a little blaming that she would pretend to second guess for him, "No, no, it makes sense now."

"Claude," she stops, the edge to her voice much less. He spots bumps rising on her skin, but she doesn't look effected. "Are you okay?"

It's been a long time since someone asked him that. _What is this, a pity party?_ Claude goes to walk on, "I'm fine."

Her fingers are light around his wrist, easily broken. Not the strong grips he's used to from others, demanding his attention. Pulling or pushing, bruising or careless. Almost like she trusts him not to walk away even when he's upset, "Try again."

He could walk away but the touch, the lack of emotion from it, is enough to reign in his own anger for now. The more he focuses on her hand, the less he feels overwhelmed by the senses around him. Claude nods slowly, looks into her eyes and doesn't see hate or disdain. Leonie only looks worried.

_Well, we can't have that_.

"Alright, not _fine_ fine. Maybe a bit shocked. I did _not_ see that coming. How desperate she'd been? It makes sense. If it was h- if it was someone I loved, I'd be worried if they disappeared like that too."

"Okay," Leonie releases. He flexes his wrist, wishing she'd held on as the faint emotions in the air come back. Most of his anger must have been from the losers; he can hear someone shouting about a foul. The downside of having the empathic sense, you risk losing yourself to the feelings around. "If you need some time alone or-"

"No, I've got this." Claude plasters on his usual smile, fighting internally to sort out how he really feels about Hilda's crush vs. what's been amplified. "Let's go watch the tournament." When she stares a bit longer, he adds, "Please."

Leonie sighs, smile kind, "Let me know if you need an out."

Claude imagines giving her a hug, wonders for a moment if that's why Bernadetta sticks so close to her. After so many years of never feeling emotions, he's pretty good at ignoring them. Slips like this have rarely happened since his training, even then Claude has a lot of skill separating his emotions from others.

Maybe Hilda really does effect him more than he wants.

For just that moment, Claude wishes he knew Leonie was on his side. More then that, he could really use a friend right now. "How about we take lunch outside the Monastery."

"Want to go to the village? There's a café I wanted to check out, my treat."

_Is_ this what friendship is? Claude tries once more to scare her off, "I'm going to buy one of everything."

Leonie chuckles like it's a joke, "As long as you let me try some, why not?"

He thinks she's supposed to hoard money and hate the flaunting of it. Leonie isn't supposed to lie and is supposed to hate poisonous things.

She isn't supposed to look small and feel unnoticeable.

'_Where is Leonie?'_

"Great!" Claude throws an arm over her shoulder and relishes that she doesn't shake it off like everyone else would. Like everyone else has.

Leonie is right here, and he's going to keep her at his side for as long as he can.

Claude thinks she's supposed to be loyal.

Hopes he still has a chance to earn it.

**18.9**

"Did you tell Leonie that you are the next Golden Deer House Leader?"

Claude jerks his head up from the blank paper that will _eventually_ be a writeup for one of his classmates. Blinks like a doe, "Well, good afternoon to you too."

"Claude, this is serious," Edelgard hisses, quickly closing the door and hurrying over. Dimitri watches on his side of the table with his usual awkwardness. "She knows that I am the next leader of-"

"She made a logical guess," Claude rolls his eyes, "that I haven't dissuaded. What, did you _want_ me to lie to my classmates?"

"For something as serious as this, it is imperative Seteth does not hear it from the students."

"Really?" he can't stop the chuckle. "If anyone put two thoughts together, they could guess we're the next House Leaders. It would be the worst kept secret if Hilda hadn't been running the gossip mill since day one. Even Lorenz still thinks he has a chance."

This draws the princess up short. Dimitri takes the opening, "Can you give Hilda my thanks, then? I had wondered why none of my fellow classmates have been asking about the position."

"That does explain Ferdinand's recent hope," Edelgard mutters, taking the empty seat at the table. "Still, I do hope you can dissuade Leonie from speaking of it until the class rosters are announced. She hasn't guessed about the… placements, has she?"

"No," Claude smiles like it doesn't bother him, "but I don't think anyone would unless they know someone who got in. This has been a rather recent tactic from the Church, hasn't it?"

"I believe you are correct," Dimitri nods to himself. "Besides House Leaders, I have not heard of anyone being placed before the conditioning. Even then, none of the stories ever had someone placed before the first week."

"It is odd," Edelgard purses her lips, "but there have been a few noble children over the last decade who have claimed this situation to me. However, I did not expect half the class to be chosen already."

_Another mystery_, Claude thinks. _Why change up the system, and how has it not damaged the Church's reputation?_

He finds himself looking forward to the year. More so the access to the library, but most currently a private room. Then, he won't have to pretend to sleep anymore.

**.**

-_Master Tactician_

_King of Unification._

_It's funny, even with the smallest of changes the important people are still born. Something in F__ó__dlan makes sure they are still born. Even if their biology changes or their upbringing has a few differences from the last time, it's still them._

Khalid is Claude.

Claude is Khalid.

Even if his blood is different, his essence still holds the memories.

With the moon drifting away, the Crest of Riegan still remembers.

Together, a body can be affected.

_Here is a fraction of what his blood remembers._

**I.**

_He has to save his brother._

_Khalid runs through the halls, silent as he can be, not knowing how but_ knowing _there is an assassin after his brother._

_Something bad happens if he doesn't make it in time. Khalid doesn't know what, but he's scared enough of it that he doesn't want to find out._

_Khalid runs faster._

**II.**

_Khalid's run away from home. He travels through villages and small towns, sneaks across the border, and tries to immerse himself in F__ó__dlan's culture._

_It doesn't go well. He can't speak the language, can barely read a thing, and when they hear him speaking Almyran the guards are called or rocks are thrown._

_The racism cuts and burns, but Khalid – Claude – will always pick himself back up. He tries, again and again. Eventually he makes it to Riegan territory._

_They are looking for an heir, he's looking for a way to unite their countries. Win-win, or so it seems._

_By the time he's going off to the Officer's Academy, Judith is the only person he sort-of trusts, and only because her teachings helped him from dying more than once in the Alliance meetings. _

_Cutthroat negotiations indeed._

**III.**

_He and Hilda arrive at the Monastery together. Ignatz, Raphael, and the Goneril sponsors arrive a week later since that is when the guards could be spared to travel with them._

_Lorenz, Marianne, and Lysithea arrive in carriages. Lorenz with his servants, Marianne with her uncle, and Lysithea with piles of books. Seteth confiscates half of those piles not too long after. _

_He gets told of a new arrival and goes looking. Claude finds her digging through the donation bins with Ignatz and Raphael, all looking for old uniforms to wear. Nothing will fit Raphael, everything is too big for Ignatz, and-_

"_Are you just going to stand there, or do you need something?"_

"_I'm just here to meet the new arrival," Claude walks in. "Hey Ignatz, Raphael."_

_They greet him while the young woman puts her hands on her hips, bright smile aimed his way. For all she should stand out with orange hair, tanning skin, and piercing eyes, she's rather small in a way that comes from lack of constant food. All muscle, no fat. Her presence feels small, even as she tries to make herself look bigger with a voice no one could miss, "Claude, huh? I'm Leonie Pinelli! Nice ta meet'ca!"_

**IV.**

_There is somewhere he needs to go._

"_Claude, wha-"_

"_Where is he going? Claude!"_

_Someone he has to meet._

"_I was personally planning to develop a deep and lasting friendship on our journey back to the monastery before begging for favors."_

_The new teacher can't be any worse than the last one._

"_Don't tell me. You chose this class just to get to know me better, right? I'm flattered, really."_

_It's odd how enamoured the class gets around Teach. Stranger still, how jealous Leonie becomes. Every other sentence from her revolves around Jeralt in Teach's presence. _

_Claude wonders when he became the normal one in the room. _

**V.**

_He notices a pattern:_

_They win the mock battle._

_Ashe joins before they fight his adopted father._

_Teach gets Relic that can split mountains._

_Sylvain fights his brother for the stolen Relic._

_Oh, sure, their class has people joining left and right. Claude almost feels sorry for Edelgard and Dimitri, but he knows if it were the other way around, neither would feel the same for him. _

_He finds himself warming up to Teach, and when he gets the diary, he thinks maybe his professor is becoming more like a friend. _

_(But he can't think about that now because one of his is tied to the hospital bed and it's his turn on watch-)_

**VI.**

_Teach is missing, Rhea is dead or missing, Dimitri's gone crazy, and any adult in charge is either too wounded or stuck in the Monastery trying to fight back. As the only one with official acting power – no matter how lowest rung on the ladder – Claude has his work cut out for him managing evacuees, supplies, and where they're to go before the Empire overpowers them._

_They will get overpowered. The Knights of Serios are already scattering to follow Seteth, Catharine, or Alois's get-out plans. The way Edelgard's going, devout believers will likely get executed and noble children will be political prisoners. Which leaves Claude in a very, very dire position._

_He would get everyone into Alliance territory if he could. When the Empire does find their obvious encampment, Claude will cut and run because he refuses to let Edelgard take over F__ó__dlan in day. Until then, he has to move people. Get Marianne and Hilda out of here as fast as possible so those seats are secure. Lorenz and Lysithea are wildcards with their territory on the border. Most of the Lions are all nobles, and getting them even halfway over the map is a splitting headache waiting to happen. Dimitri's so far gone that he'll probably take off and ruin whatever plan is in action._

What a mess.

_Surrounded by muffled sobs and harsh whispers, Claude also feels their fear, worry, and anger. He is as on edge as possible with people asking him what to do. He doesn't know, and the more he struggles to cut away their feeling the less he has time to think through plans. Without checking, he pushes into a tent that feels empty because he needs a moment alone to process and think, a filter from the onslaught._

_Leonie looks up at him from kneeling on the ground, split lip, with bruises and dirt all over her. The few cuts left aren't bleeding, but there are tracks staining her skin and a very telling hole in her pants over her knee. She has one hand on a hunting knife, the other on the opening of her patchwork bag._

_There is a silence, which disturbs him because Leonie is only ever as quiet as her presence when she's badly hurt. In a moment of panic, he blurts, "I can't do this."_

"_Okay," Leonie responds like it is that simple. "If you can't, you can't. Do you want me to stay?"_

_Claude drops down next to her in an answer, rubbing his face and hating how there's an ache from an injury healed by his faith shield._ Better than dead. _"The Empire is going to come for us."_

"_Yep."_

"_All the nobles need to be gone before that."_

"_Political prisoners, right? Yah, I can see how that would go badly. If she takes over F__ó__dlan, I'll probably die trying to assassinate the Empire leaders. No way do I want to live in a world where Jeralt's killers win."_

_Claude feels the hysterical whine burst at how serious she, "Leonie-"_

"_I am doing better," she assures him, abrupt in a way that's familiar. "If I slip, you guys will pull me out. But in order to do that, we need you all tucked away in your fancy manors. Who do you want me to nab to talk tactics, boss?"_

_His mouth is dry, but he swallows anyways. Claude lets himself breathe and feel brave. "Hilda and- Marianne. I guess Lysithea- you know what? Get the whole original class. Last meeting before we split up."_

"_Still got our five-year promise," Leonie says, and he's glad she does. That promise meant a lot to him._ If only Teach- _no, he needs to focus on this_.

_On last hooray together. They won the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, they can outsmart the Empire easier with the Kingdom on their side. _

**VII.**

_Khalid is into his second year as King when he sees her in the crowd entertaining children. She has the gall to wave and wink. Each being led in opposite direction of the other. Which means he has his spies track her down to her hotel room where he slams open the door._

_Leonie yelps, her pendant and the cleaning rag dropping from her hands as she scrambles for a weapon. It doesn't take to long to register the intruder, "Claude, what the f**k?"_

"_It's Khalid, now," he saunters in, guards shutting the door as he waves them off. "How did you even find me?"_

"_It wasn't that hard,_ Your Highness," _Leonie rolls her eyes and goes back to cleaning the pendant Jeralt once gave her. "I got Hilda drunk enough to admit you were born in Almyra and picked up rumors as I took jobs. Speaking of which, she's mad at me now too because for some reason she thought Claude was your real name."_

"_Hold on, you knew it wasn't my real name?"_

"_I knew it had to be something that started with a ck sound," Leonie gives him an odd look. "The fact your mother disappeared and then you show up out of nowhere? Either you were kidnapped or running away, and both means you're not supposed to be recognized as whoever you were before you became heir to your house."_

_Khalid's face hurts from smiling, he laughs and splays on the bed next to her, "I missed this. Thanks for not yelling at me about hiding this stuff."_

"_Is that what Hilda did? All she told me was that you two got in a fight after you told her all your secrets and then proposed."_

_Khalid winces at the sore memory, "Not my finest moment. How is she?"_

"_She's thrown herself into studying politics and management, and now I get why. Write her a letter, Khalid, or else she's going to be practicing this stuff for the rest of her life trying to live up to the expectations of a Queen and I want to be someone's bridesmaid d**n it."_

_Khalid laughs some more and tells her he will, after they've moved her stuff to the palace. She's his guest now, no take backs. _

**VIII.**

_On the last night of her visit, Khalid pulls out his best and strongest alcohol. They joke it's as thanks for restraining herself from drinking his country into debt, both ignoring how much she's done in reducing crime in both the capital and surrounding villages._

_For all she powers it back, Leonie doesn't even seem tipsy._

"_It's a secret Captain Jeralt taught me," she says with a bright grin and another swig to hide the pain. "A magic trick."_

"_Not a party trick?" Khalid asks casually from his comfiest chair._

"_Nah," Leonie eyes the fireplace from her spread in the less comfy chair. "I had to learn those all on my own. Wasn't going to go around throwing knives at my people, you know?"_

"_You'd have won."_

_She throws her head back with a laugh, long orange hair frizzing out of its braid, "It's not about winning. It's just, it's not what you do! Even when you're sad. Especially when you're sad! If you throw things at people you like, you'll regret it!"_

"_Hey, hey, hey," Khalid tries to pull the conversation back to other things. Away from the lessons Shamir and the others taught her, "You know, I've always been curious."_

"_About?"_

"_The story. How you met Jeralt."_

"_I've told you-"_

"_Poachers, yah, but what's the story. The story, story."_

_Leonie falls silent, an unusually serious frown marring her confident looks. She takes a whole, unopened bottle, "I'm not drunk enough for this."_

_Proceeds to chug down a drink that could put his strongest generals out after a few glasses. Khalid gapes, the fuzzy part of his brain wondering if her blood is alcohol now. _

_Leonie belches, "Okay, so, when I was younger, kids in the village started disappearing. Just, snapped up in the middle of the night. Gone. And then one day, I was taken too."_

_Khalid feels a cold chill going down his spine. _

"_They took three of us, and the whole time all I could think was don't let them get us in a secondary location. So I fought, and they tied me up. And then I- I- hahaha…" Leonie stares unseeing into the fire, "When I was a kid, a man broke my jaw because I talked too much."_

"_Ouch," Khalid croaks out, an irrational anger filling his body. It happened, she's fine, but he still wants to tear apart anyone who wants her to shut up. _

"_Yah," Leonie agrees, "Apparently they weren't supposed to damage us? Ugh, he didn't live much longer anyway. They brought us to their encampment the next day, and that's when Jeralt and his people saved us. They'd been following along, caught up. Killed them all, rescued half of the taken kids. No one, uh, no one could heal my jaw until we got back to the village, so he – Captain Jeralt – he stayed with me. Taught me a lot. S'how I'm so great at sign language."_

"_That…" he isn't even sure what to say to that, "is one heck of a story. He ever find the other kids?"_

"_Not… all of them," Leonie hums, twirling the empty bottle over a finger. "I keep an eye out. Going to chase down another lead when I get back to F__ó__dlan."_

"_Another lead?"_

"_It won't be as easy as finding you, but I'm sure I can find something."_

"_Hey now, I was not easy to find! I was hiding in plain sight!"_

_Leonie laughs, and they move on to lighter topics as she somehow manages to sober up and crack another bottle. _

_He thinks she could win the position of Queen easily, even without a Crest. He tells her so, and Leonie turns it down with a melancholy, "Maybe in another life. I'm too old to learn how to run a country."_

"_You're not old."_

"_Sure, Khalid. I'll believe that when you can say it with a straight face." _

**IX.**

"_Hey, Teach."_

"_Claude," comes the greeting, green hair parting as green eyes leave the paperwork. "Have you come to say goodbye?"_

_The King of Almyra wonders if his emotionally stunted friend knows how rude it is, both calling him Claude when he's said not to and choosing paperwork over seeing him off. Khalid can understand being busy, but it could be another year before they see each other, "Well, yah! Since you couldn't make it, I thought I'd drop by. I also wanted to talk about the book the Church published, the one you wrote. Verdant Wind? I read it all last night."_

_The Archbishop's head tilts in a polite way, eyes lighting up a bit, "What did you think?"_

"_A real page turner," Khalid clenches his fists behind his back, reigning in the quiet desperation, "but I couldn't help but notice how a lot of the things we did went unmentioned."_

_The light fades into something wary, "What do you mean?"_

_He doesn't want the confirmation. Doesn't want to feed into the idea that maybe their teacher - who had no idea about the country's entire religion up until they first met - isn't doing an honest job leading F__ó__dlan. The more he read, the worse the feeling in his gut, "Well, the history book briefly explains your year teaching us, and then it skips towards the end of the war."_

"…_And?"_

"_And there was a lot more in between," Khalid explains, pushing down the horror because maybe Teach doesn't realize how much it hurts. The talk of the five-year slumber has always been avoided, it makes his old professor agitated and brisk, but to completely ignore it is a new level. "Any of us would have been happy to tell you what we had been up to. Did you even ask?"_

"_None of you were here," is the answer. As if it makes writing, twisting, and publishing select parts of history okay. _

"_We would have come if you had asked," he says, finally allowing some anger. Khalid walks into the room a bit, voice rising with emotion. "Lorenz spent years redirecting his father's attention and coming up with ways to keep the Empire from invading further. Ignatz created an entire spy network, while Raphael helped smuggle people and goods safety through the borders. Marianna and Lystithea created an entire ward system to alert us to Empire forces, which kept the Alliance from falling like half the Kingdom. Leonie-"_

_He knows the moment he's said her name that he loses the Archbishop. She will always be a sore spot for Teach, and likewise the first crack in the Golden Deer's faith in their professor. Khalid wonders if time and distance really has given him perspective, or if his old professor was always like this. Maybe it's the power and responsibility going to Teach's head, but either way it's as heartbreaking to realize his friend isn't the person he remembers as it was read the small blurbs about their lives at the end of the books._

"_None of you were here, Claude," the Archbishop repeats with a sigh and goes back to work. "I did the best I could_ _with the little outside information I had. It is history as I remember it. I do not see the problem."_

_Khalid bites back_, but that's the issue. _He really does have to leave soon, the convoy should be packed by now. Still, he has to ask the last thing, "Hey, Teach, why didn't you make it to my wedding?"_

_The look he gets is the one that once endeared them all to the professor. Now it makes Khalid want to throw himself out a window. "I'm busy, Claude. I don't believe I have left the Monastery at all in years. It has been a lot of work to get the country to run as one."_

_He doesn't say_, I know. _Doesn't say_, I run a country too._ Doesn't even mention all the times he's come over here as an act of goodwill between neighbors. _

_Khalid just feels disappointed as he waves, "Good luck, then. See you at the next conference."_

_Green eyes don't watch him leave, and Khalid forces himself to let go of the bitterness. He has to at least act like the leaders are on good relations, lest it feeds the fear and anger of both peoples. _

**X.**

_The first hint something is wrong is the lack of backlash about her blurb in the back of the book. The letters have stopped coming, and eventually they all begin asking each other and their friends if they've seen her. A few pick up old trails, but there are never any leads. It's as if she's vanished._

_Khalid would have gone back to F__ó__dlan to look if he hadn't been running a country, working hard to create friendships with the neighbors. He would have searched for her if he could spare the spies, but it is like she vanished. With no clues and no help from his dreams, some nights he reminisces and asks the open air:_

"_Where is Leonie?"_


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

**1**.

Leonie hesitates when she realizes there's more than one letter being handed over, and she's completely frowning when she reads the sending addresses. Shaking away the urge to stab something, her smile only looks real as she thanks the person handing out mail. The jog back to her room is quick, she'll still have plenty of time to do a morning run, and everyone is still asleep as she quietly shuts the door. Leonie huddles up on her bed, taking her favourite knife out and carefully slicing open the string holding the bundle.

Several letters fall into her lap. Each one is written in a different messy, looping, but readable font. Each one starts of with a variation of, _I miss you_.

Her hand flutters to her chest. Her eyes are dry, body feels cold, but Leonie still knows she is deeply touched by the words of the children from her village. The fact they wrote at all, spent time and money to send words of encouragement and well wishes, means more than she can give words to. They remember her, and they want her to succeed.

A part of Leonie hates herself for not missing them.

Not a single letter from an adult, but maybe some of what she left behind is worth a second thought. The run today can be held off, it's not like she won't be exercising later. That decided, Leonie moves to the floor. Spare paper and a pen out, she writes a personalized response for each of the kids, even the ones too young to write and got others to add them in.

One of the highlights of the Officer's Academy, outgoing mail is free.

**2**.

"Ack, hey! Shamir!"

"Better," the ravenette says, still pinching Leonie's skin. "Not up to standard yet. I expect you not to lose this during selection weeks."

Leonie rubs the spot when she's released, faking a pout as Cyril chuckles, "I'm doing my best. I've even started eating more for breakfast!" _On Claude's insistence_.

"Do better," is her uncaring retort. "Line up, both of you. This is the last time we're practicing with Leonie until the class selection is over. Cyril, here's a tome, start casting and yell if you feel like you're pulling. Leonie, did you practice what I said to?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good," Shamir dumps an empty book covering in her hands. It's poor quality, nothing special about it. "When you're ready, try to pull energy from the target dummy _without destroying it_. There shouldn't been anything more than a page's worth so, for the dummy's sake, start small."

"Yes, sir," Leonie mutters, quieter and abash. It was bad enough the first time the training dummy disintegrated; made worse by the fact she couldn't hold the energy.

Cyril has disadvantages in Faith and Reason, meaning the reason he struggles is because of a natural disinclination towards magic. He must use a tome for any kind of spell. The finesse needed for wards and glyphs is beyond him unless he spends his life honing the skills, and even then more complicated designs are impossible unless he has a mage constantly supplying him magic. Nosferatu is an easier magic to catch on humans that inanimate objects, but without the strength to pull energy to the caster it isn't worth it. Best case scenario: the caster will run their magic dry and pass out. Worst case: Nosferatu reverses the flow and sends life energy into the catch, eventually killing the caster if the magic isn't severed.

Leonie's issue is not the tomes, nor the pull, nor the magic. As demonstrated to Shamir in her first attempt, she can make a straw target turn to dust. All without too much effort, not that the others know. Her issue comes from absorbing the energy. Her body will refuse it, only using what lingers in the air around her if it must. Her Faith shield won't take it, and so she can't store it on her person to be used for another spell.

Shamir's solution: turn the leftover energy into a physical object that can be used at a later date. Instead of a tome to absorb magic, the pages of the tome are magic and will dissipate into the air for use once ripped out. Because making potential energy _stay_ potential without a constant force for a long period of time couldn't _possibly_ go wrong.

Leonie pretends to be focusing on reigning in her magic, while in reality is quickly drawing a metaphysical, magical glyph circuit that will make the illusion of paper when it reaches a certain threshold. The illusion of the paper feedbacks into the circuit with only minimal energy loss and allowance for the 'paper' to be ripped out without destroying the whole circuit. No need to accidentally create a blackhole, not that Leonie has plans to go around disintegrating people. She, unfortunately, gets more enjoyment from physically _dealing with it herself_ than the elemental applications of a magic fight.

Also, Nosferatu feels like a dusty, stalker-ish, animalistic spell. None of the finesse the other Reason magics have. Leonie isn't going to use it unless she has to.

"Good," Shamir praises when the straw brittles but doesn't crumble. "Now heal yourself with it."

Leonie rips the 'paper' out, the energy turning from white light into fizzles of sparks. With the little bit of extra magic in the air, _Heal_ doesn't require so much of her fat stores to ease the muscle strain. She tells the woman so.

"See about filling that book with _things_ no one is going to miss. Leaves that are dying, weeds, broken pieces of a well-used sword. Only use it on people when you are fighting against them on Church sanctioned missions."

"I remember," Leonie assures her. _Not going to happen_, she thinks, already saving it in her mind as a last-ditch effort spell. While she may be a killer, Leonie does not enjoy plucking the life from things bit by bit. She also doesn't think the magic of the spell would appreciate being used to turn leaves to dust; it's got a more bloodthirsty feel to it.

After Cyril struggles a bit more, Shamir calls it and has the two work on archery instead. This is how Alois and Catherine find them, in the training yard devoid of others. Shamir huffs at their arrival, "Aren't you two supposed to be recruiting."

"Nah," Catherine walks up and stares, "we've already filled the quota and the kids are too busy packing and crying. All their marks came out an hour ago."

"We'll have plenty of new knights in the coming year!" Alois is practically vibrating with excitement. "Ah, Cyril, Leonie, how are you two?"

"Good," is Cyril's clipped reply.

Leonie waves and smiles before setting up for another shot, "Excited to start classes."

There's laughter in response, Catherine joking, "I think you might be the only student excited so far. Most are far more nervous around this time."

"I'm definitely nervous, but there's only fourteen Golden Deer this year so I'm excited to really spend time with them all."

"That's right!" Catherine exclaims. "You moved in with the Eagle hopefuls, didn't you? There's only ever been a few mix and matches. You thinking of joining them?"

"I'm a Deer and proud of it," Leonie winks when Cyril looks over. Her next shot is a little off, she'll need to work some more on corner-of-eye targeting. "Hey, any news on the new professor?"

"You'll find out on Sunday with the rest," Shamir deadpans.

"Worth a try. What was it like when you started classes, Catherine? What House were you in?"

**3**.

For the year ahead of Leonie, it's Graduation Day. She stands around on the fringes with a bunch of the other future students and the few parents who bothered to show up for their kids. Seteth stands on a quickly constructed podium in the class courtyard, reading off graduating students names one at a time and telling the audience their licences and certifications. It is interesting to see the Blue Lions main class has an extra four students this year. Must have been big for transfer.

Everyone claps politely. In the Golden Deer House, everyone cheers for their class's accomplishments. Leonie joins in with Raphael in hollering for them.

_I should be sad_, Leonie thinks through the bland indifference and wanting the ceremony to be over. Her classmates will never get to experience this for themselves. All their accomplishments will go unnoticed in the face of a war; they won't even make it to exams if she remembers correctly. She feels nothing at the thought of missing out on this; Lysithea will never become the youngest graduate and those without connections will have to claw their way up into a place in history. Petra will truly be a hostage to keep her country in line, Dimitri will end up feral in his or in the Monastery. Dorothea will have to side with the Empire or be on the run for years, Claude will take over the roundtable sooner than expected.

Hubert will play a dangerous game of weeding out the ones who tortured Edelgard. The next Emperor will do whatever it takes to make sure her country doesn't burn under javelins or Crests.

Leonie isn't sad. In a way, this is the beginning of the end. She is going to save Jeralt or die trying; there is still a chance for them to get this experience no matter how small.

Maybe, if she finds herself actually caring about them all when war knocks on their door, she'll set up a graduation podium for whoever's left. Leonie doesn't think she can come up with a great a speech as Seteth is giving for his closing goodbyes and congratulations, but when in doubt there's plagiarism from another world to get her though.

She congratulates each and every person, even if it takes all afternoon. Dorothea appears before she heads off, directing her to a spot by the wall, "Linhardt fell asleep a while ago. Would you mind carrying him to the mess hall?"

"Not a problem." He's passed right out. Doesn't even twitch when she gets him in a princess hold. "Did you enjoy the ceremony?"

"It was nice," Dorothea replies neutrally. "Everyone looked great in their uniform."

"I guess I'll have to button up my jacket for tomorrow," Leonie sighs. "It fits nicely, but I hate having my arms confined. Years of archery and tree jumping."

"Tree jumping!" Petra appears, Bernadetta hiding behind her and likely pointed them out. "Do you practice the habit of moving up trees as well, Leonie?"

"I enjoy the higher vantage," she admits. "There is a big forest around my village, I used to climb up them a lot. And jump between them. Do you enjoy tree climbing, Petra?"

"Oh yes," she nods, excited. "I am very good at cl-imb-ing and jumping trees. We played many games on them back in my home. Bernadetta? Dorothea? Do you enjoy trees?"

Bernadetta hesitantly nods, "They're good hiding places."

"I enjoy their shade," Dorothea chuckles. "I'll leave the climbing to you three. I do believe Linhardt would agree with me, if he were awake. Tree climbing is not something nobles in the E- erm, excuse me, the nobles in Fódlan let their children… _experience_."

Leonie appreciates the former singer's tact in not singling out Bernadetta's terrible Empire upbringing. They get Linhardt positioned at a table and get in the growing line for food. Leonie's struggling not to drool at the smell. With the big ceremony and parents here, the Church is going all out to appear competent. Last of the group, she loads up her plate and turns to go, only for her arm to get snagged.

On instinct, Leonie increases her weight so she isn't moved. Claude grunts as their turn stops, but he doesn't seem to think twice as he smirks to the future Eagles, "Sorry, ladies, but I need to steal Leonie for the night. Deer business."

Leonie lightens so he can drag her off easier, struggling to wave with her arms full of food tray, "I'll see you at the dorm."

Before she can ask, Claude has her on the seat next to Lysithea. He jumps over the table, getting a scolding from Lorenz about bad manners. The next House Leader waves it off, spreading out his hands and seemingly trying to exude excitement, "A bunch of students moved out today, so you know what that means!"

Lysithea gives a long-suffering sigh, "What, Claude?"

"You get to move in tonight!"

The whitette doubletakes while Leonie blinks slowly. Claude's expression falters for a second, and then he's forcing the smile even more. Before he can press the issue, Leonie makes sure to raise her hands in a 'what can you do' motion, "Sure. I might have to see about Dorothea moving into my old spot, but if there's room then we can go."

"Leonie," Lysithea hisses. Meanwhile, Claude's smile is starting to reach his eyes. "We can't just move over now."

"Why not? I can carry everything, and it's not like we aren't going to see Bernadetta again. We all practice outside anyways, and if you two want to be reading buddies then she can just come to our room. Easy."

Lysithea gives a small scream at the logic and turns resolutely to her food, making sure to stink eye Claude and stab her fork like she wishes it were him, "And this couldn't wait until tomorrow _because_?"

He takes a seat just as Hilda appears, "Opening ceremonies is bound to be busy. Better to wake up with us than risk missing stamina training because you're in another building. Aww, come on, Lysithea. Don't give me that look."

Leonie gets a light kick from him at rolling her eyes. Lysithea snipes back about never being late, while Marianne sits next to Leonie. The orangette only barely hears the muttered, "I'm glad you'll be in our dorms again."

Her heart skips a beat at the honest emotion from the girl terrified of getting too close to others, and Leonie smiles a small and real thing, "Thanks, Marianne. I'm glad we'll be with all of you as well."

**4**.

"Take me with you!" Bernadetta cries, absolutely _not okay_ with this room change.

While Leonie sits on the sobbing girl's bed, petting her hair as the younger unknowingly attempts to squeeze the life out of Leonie' middle, she can hear Lysithea outside the door trying to convince Hubert to get Edelgard and not go barging in himself. In a fist fight she'd put money on broad imposing Hubert, but magic-wise Lysithea is in perfect glass cannon position. Hubert may have the glare, but Lysithea eat toxicity for breakfast. There's a very real chance the standoff isn't going to end for a while.

Leonie threads boney fingers through purple strands, projecting calm, "You knew Lysithea and I were going to have to leave eventually. We wouldn't have been able to stay much longer. I am sorry we didn't give you more warning."

"I don't need warning!" Bernadetta shrieks into Leonie's stomach. "I need everything to stay! I can't- I can't do this! You're going to leave and then I won't be able to go outside and then everyone in my class will hate me and then I'll be kicked out and left on the streets to die and-"

"No," Leonie moves the teen gently until the back of Bernadetta's head is fully on her lap. The purplette does not shy away from meeting her eyes, which is a great sign, "stop that. It's not just me you go outside with. You'll have Dorothea and Ferdinand and Petra, and there will be plenty of your other classmates who will like you and gladly be your shield. You get any one of use if anyone hurts you, and there is no way any of us will stand by if you're threatened with expulsion. Why, I'll tear down the whole Church if it means you can stay here and stay safe. How does that sound?"

Bernadetta sniffles pathetically, hiccupping like she isn't sure she should sob or smile, "Why can't I come with you?"

"Because you were raised in the Empire," Leonie mockingly puts a hand to the back of her own forehead, pretending to swoon. "And I was dragged in from the Alliance wilds. If you really want to join my class, applications for transfers usually start a few months in, if you're in the main class. I do think you'll do great with the Eagles, so I won't feel _too_ bad if you decide to stay with them."

Leonie is extremely proud when Bernadetta works up the nerve to ask, "Will you consider coming to my class?"

"I'll consider it," Leonie tells her, "but only if the Golden Deer prove to be a terrible group. I know Lysithea wants to try for a more magically focused House, so that's a reason for me to move as well. If we all get in the main classes."

Bernadetta wipes away her tears and rolls over, gazing sadly at the soon-to-be empty bunks, "I- I won't be too sad if… you decide to stay a Deer because of your friends."

"Thank you, Bernadetta," Leonie pets the girl's head one last time, feeling empty inside and knowing it shouldn't be so. "It means a lot to hear that. Promise me you'll remember that you're my friend too? Your opinions matter a lot to me as well, I will always take into account whatever you say."

"I promise."

There's a commotion at the entrance, Dorothea appearing with Edelgard in tow. Bernadetta yelps and scrambles to peer over Leonie's shoulder, the orange haired woman waving as the newcomers hear Lysithea's side of the story.

"I think that is fine as long as Aurora and Dorothea are alright with it," comes the final decision from the future House Leader. "Lysithea, Leonie. It was a pleasure to have you in our dorms. Please feel free to visit in the future, or to talk with any of us when you have a moment. It is always insightful chatting with you both."

"Thanks, Edelgard," Leonie smiles brightly, wondering if the princess truly feels that way or is just being cordial. Hubert makes a tsking noise and steps away, so perhaps the soon-to-be House Leader does like them a bit. "I've felt really welcomed here, and I'm always up for a chat! Dorothea, Hubert," a tap at the knee pressed against her back, "Bernadetta, all of you don't be strangers, you hear? If any of you wake up early enough, you know how to find me."

"Indeed," is the soft mutter from Edelgard that Dorothea begins teasing her for. Hubert snaps at Claude's cousin, but Dorothea shoots poison back in the undertones of honeyed words.

Lysithea urges Bernadetta up, and then glomps a hug on her with the threat, "If you run away from training with us, I'll throw an experimental Swarm Z at you."

"Yes Lysithea!" is the yelped answer.

Leonie grabs the only boxes they couldn't get in her storage, "See you all at opening ceremonies tomorrow!"

The last real break for a while.

**5**.

Seteth is back for another great speech.

There are one hundred and twelve new students gathered on the lawn just outside of the classrooms, the fourteen golden deer stuck at the back because that's where their classroom is. Raphael has Lauza on a shoulder, Claude convinced Lysithea to sit on his, and Leonie has Hilda on hers. None of the Knights have stopped them, and it's not like they're blocking anyone.

Something that stands out to Leonie, niggling in her head until she has to acknowledge it, is how Rhea has yet to appear. One would think that people having a ceremony on her place of business, worship, and rest would be a cause to come out and say a few words. Nothing from the Archbishop to the graduates and nothing to the fresh faces. The more she thinks on it, the more Leonie realizes just how weird it is that she hasn't seen the woman more than a handful of times, all at a very far distance. Leonie has been so thankful not to run into her – not to be targeted by a Crest she wouldn't have had to worry about if she had bonded with Jeralt – that she can't help but worry after recognizing how little Rhea interacts with the outside world. No one talks about seeing the Archbishop outside of her chambers, never for tea or in the village, and not even during celebrations at the chapel. In fact, the only times Leonie's seen her is when Rhea wanders to the graveyard or to a Church-official-only room

The only rumors of Rhea leaving the Monastery are when she executes Church officials who have strayed.

Leonie shuffles as Seteth finishes his welcome and brings up the teachers. Hanneman and Manuela, each returning to be a main teacher for one of the Houses. He continues, "I am pleased to welcome Dr. Preston Pettigrew as the newest House teacher."

Leonie doesn't catch whatever pleasantries follow, too busy turning her laughs into coughs as Hilda keeps her hair in a death grip. The young woman straightens soon enough, watching and listening as the partial teachers walk on the stage, their specialties called out. Her eyes are drawn back to the new teacher, resisting the urge to use magic and zoom in. From here he looks skinny, fidgeting and narrowed face. If Leonie had to guess, his specialty would be subterfuge and his animal spirit a _diseased ridden rat_.

A memory worms its way into Leonie's head, slippery and hard to focus on. _No one is ever the same person twice._

"_Remember you are not two people_," Leonie finishes with a mutter, unaware it isn't in a known language of this world. Just as fast as it comes, the memory is buried by the reminder of a story and the reason she laughed at the new teacher's name. He might actually be a good person, might not have been threatened by the bad guys, and might be at risk of dying because he's a Church supporter. Leonie doesn't care. If she remembers correctly – and it will need some more thought because she isn't too sure and is a little busy at the moment – this new professor will put her housemates, specifically Claude, at risk.

Leonie doesn't feel anything really towards the newbie, if anything is more inclined to talk to the guy because fate is lining up a bad hand for him, but if he does anything to jeopardize the Deer then she'll make sure his death isn't _nice_.

_Actually_, Leonie thinks as her eyes count the people ahead of her, _if he looks at any of the main class wrong, he can be my test subject for a countdown glyph._

The speeches end on the warning of upcoming, intensive training. Leonie pauses before helping Hilda down, discreetly wiping away the blood that had unknowingly formed on her fingertips at a thought she can't remember. The fourteen Deer can easily fit within their classroom, plenty checking out the desks or bookshelves.

Leonie glances up at the beams and wonders how sturdy they are.

"So," Claude comes from a blind spot, leaning against the pillar, "what do you think?"

"What do _I_ think?" there's a bit of real shock dripping into the words. She takes it seriously and looks around, a small bit of maybe-happiness creeping into her chest at him asking for her thoughts. "I think it's going to be a great year. Main or part-time," her lips pull into a teasing grin, "we've got each other, and I know I can count on you."

"Just me?"

"To have my back? Absolutely."

That throws him for a moment, "What about Lysithea?"

"She's a bit too short for a good shield."

The smile reaches his eyes for a moment, laughter spilling out before Gregory and Tristan and try to steer him away. Claude captures Leonie's hand, pulling her just lightly enough to break easily. When she doesn't, his grip becomes like a cuff making sure she stays at his side. Tristan suggests she go off and chat with the other girls. Leonie smiles with all teeth and tells him she'll talk with them later.

Claude lets go, but always makes sure to nudge her into pace with him as they move around the classroom. Leonie doesn't get why and goes with it; thinks it would be much better if he used someone else as a shield. Hilda and Lorenz have more political power and reputation, so unless he's using Leonie as a distraction for his second-in-command pick then he's wasting the opportunity to flaunt his noble allies.

When Hilda finally slides to Claude's other side, Leonie uses it to take her leave.

_Time to see what other rats are scurrying about today._

**6**.

This time, Leonie really and truly explores _down_.

Traps are easily avoided when the intent of _stop the intruder_ can be sensed, the patrols are easy to avoid when a person can hide themselves with _Invisibility_. It is easy for Leonie to enter the heart of the Abyss unnoticed.

What's difficult is facing the suffering inside.

There are orphans being read to by a man covered in burn scars. Amputees work menial jobs, cleaning and fixing what they can. There is very little sunlight hitting a struggling garden, the rays coming from a dangerous crack in the dirt ceiling far above. Criminals are either rehabilitated and added to the network or killed if their crime is deplorable enough to some "Ashen Wolf" leader. There are several merchants selling information or items, some black-market and all overpriced. The few people with Crests sewn into their outfits range in emotions, but all with a noble bearing. Very few look happy down here.

Leonie resists their molding library full of contraband. She walks up to the only bartender, slowly coming into view to the people around. Her clean-ish appearance gets a few looks, but it's the Officer's Academy uniform that draws stares. The young woman didn't think she would reveal herself, but this place could use a makeover and is a great start for connections. Easy and ripe for the picking, all for a few good deeds.

Better yet, a great place to hide if she does get kicked from the Officer's Academy.

No matter how non-threatening and sheepish Leonie makes herself look, the bartender is rightfully suspicious, "Who are you?"

"Leonie," because it's better to start with honesty, and not boasting a notable last name gets the people around to drop their guard a bit. "What is this place?"

"The Abyss. How did you get here?"

"Well, I was taking a walk around the Monastery when the ground gave out. I think I've been wandering around a couple of hours now."

"How did you-" the bartender cuts off with a head shake, "never mind. Sit tight, I'll get someone to show you out."

"Thanks! And, uh," Leonie does a purposeful look around, voice falling, "what do you need down here?"

The bartender stiffens, eyes narrowing, "Excuse me?"

"What do you need? Medicine, torches… booze?"

"…Why?"

"This place seems like it's had some hard times," she words it as carefully as possible, keeping a firm hold of how small she makes her smile. "If there's anything I can do or bring down here to help, it's just right, isn't it? Especially since I would have been wandering around forever without you guys to help me."

It might be laying it on a bit thick, and there's no expectation that anyone will give an opening so soon, but the bartender's expression breaks into something hurting and hopeless, "The only alcohol down here is the cheapest piss sold topside. Can't do worse than that."

Leonie nods. Hesitates before pulling out an empty page and a pen, "Is there anything I should look for?"

"Look, you shouldn't be coming back to a place like this. Just forget about the Abyss and go live your life."

"I am _not_," a pointed look at everyone watching, "going to pretend the world is a perfect place and forget about the hurts and injustice I see. I am going to be a mercenary one day. I am going to facilitate the cruelty in the world all because I want to be sure I'm fed from one town to the next. All I want right now is a place to come to when topside is more than it's worth, and I'm willing to exchange my passage for goods. So, I'll ask one more time, what do you need down here so I can trade it in order to come back?"

A few people stood up during the speech, one or two drawing weapons. The bartender thinks about it before waving them down. Another second, and then Leonie begins writing down the list being told. Before her escort arrives, she is asked, "Why didn't you say you were going to be a Knight?"

Leonie withholds the snort, _that would have been too easy with their 'help the helpless' dogma that most twist_, "Have the Knights of Serios ever aided you all?"

Behind her a patron scoffs, "They're more likely to put of out of our misery."

_I rest my case._

"Some do care," the bartender defends, low and weary. "Enough to get the others to leave us alone."

_That's not caring_, Leonie thinks. _That's sweeping it under the rug and hoping no one steps on it_. "Thanks for the list. I'll see what I can do, though I don't know when I'll next be back. Today's inauguration day."

There's a snort. Someone tells her, "Good luck getting into a full-time class."

"What House are you in?" asks another.

"Golden Deer."

"Balthus will like you, then."

With that, then tension breaks. People start to come up to her as Leonie waits to be released. They tell her of the Abyss' recently disbanded House, the Ashen Wolves. Now it's a name for the protectors of the Abyss, old solders, mercenaries, thieves, and a few other types of criminals lead by the old House Leader, Yuri.

Leonie is escorted away from the eager-to-chat people before said leader or former house members can arrive to interrogate her. She wonders if she'll see him again, or if he and the other old Ashen Wolves will join in partway through the year.

At least it would save someone if not every main class student makes it through the trials this time. Leonie isn't holding much stock in that kind of change, though. She may not know when the next fixed point comes up but making sure the people in a main class are the same as those in the game feels important.

To Leonie, it is starting to feel like she has to make it into the main class _or else_.

**7**.

"There you are!" Dorothea fastens onto Leonie and pulls. Mercedes smiles apologetically. "I almost thought you weren't going to make it to dinner!"

Leonie grins, hiding the forcedness, "Where's the fire?"

"We need to plan," Dorothea explains seriously. "There are several people in my class I am concerned will get far in the rankings. Mercedes was saying she can easily knock a few of the best down because of how racist they're being. What are the odds like in your class?"

"Lysithea and Ignatz are the only ones I'm concerned with for the physical tests, but I know they've been exercising since we've got here. Marianne has a lot of stamina from working with animals, and her magic is more than enough to make up from any physical weaknesses. I can handle the ones we don't want if they prove formidable, but from what little I've seen they've been spoiled with luxury rather than training."

Mercedes giggles, "That is a kind way of saying it. May we have some names on who to be on the look out for with your class, Dorothy?"

After she's done, Mercedes gives a list of her own. Leonie smiles, her own class is so small they don't need a list. When the Eagle of the three tries to get them to sit together, Leonie takes over so Mercedes doesn't have to burn anyone, "We can plan after dinner, or even tomorrow when we have more information. We've all been sitting with our classes for dinner for ages, no need to make it suspicious by breaking it up now."

"Fair point," Dorothea sighs, looking a bit unhappy to go where her House friends are. Swarms of nobles are vying for Edelgard's attention, and the crowd around Ferdinand and Linhardt is not thin either.

"How is Bernadetta?"

"Well," the brunette relaxes, idea coming at the prompt like Leonie hoped. "If you wouldn't mind charming the servers, I shall take dinner to her tonight."

"Sounds good to me," Leonie beams a smile and gets to work. The three fist bump before parting with their meals. By the time Dorothea's strutting out of the room, several gazes from her House table are watching longingly. Leonie counts that as a good sign, turning at the soft sound of thanks from Mercedes for the extra, free serving. "It's no problem. And hey, if you or anyone needs a free meal, I know how to hunt and smoke meet. That's about it though."

Mercedes covers her mouth to politely not laugh, "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Absolutely. I've got my wanderlust sated for now."

"Wanderlust," Mercedes hums the word. "That isn't something I've heard before. It fits."

They split at their tables, Leonie sitting between Ignatz and Marianne while Mercedes gets Ashe and Annette. Claude gives a little wave from where he's surrounded by the _other_ Deer, Lorenz nods from across the table without breaking his trade of barbs with Hilda.

"Hi, Leonie," Ignatz turns when he's finished debating magic in art with Lysithea. "How was your afternoon?"

"Really nice," she answers after a swallow. "How about you?"

"Ah," Marianne speaks up, hesitant, and raises a napkin from her water glass to hold up at Leonie. "I'm sorry. You've just got some dirt here." A motion to her own cheek.

"Thanks!" _Whoops_, Leonie feels a nice bit of warm embarrassment at not managing to get all the tunnel off. Marianne evades her gaze until she asks, "Did I get it?"

"Yes," and then comes the squeak when Leonie drops her clean napkin on the girl's lap. "Ah, it's alright!"

"While I'm sure you are, there's no reason to give you a dirty one if a clean one's here." Leonie can feel eyes on her, but doesn't look away from this important moment of growth for the teen. Lowers her voice, "Thank you for letting me know, Marianne. I'm grateful you felt comfortable helping me."

The blue haired teen's face goes red, hands only just stopping from covering her eyes after years of noble training. Marianne forces a smile that would terrify the faint of heart, "Ah, you are welcome then."

Leonie nods and leans back, but the only people watching her are Ignatz and Marianne, "So, what did you all do this afternoon?"

She can still feel eyes on her back.

**8**.

"_Up and at 'em Deerlings! Those not out in five minutes will be left behind!"_

Lysithea groans and rolls over. She blinks once, twice, meeting the smiling gaze of her only roommate. Her roommate, Leonie, who is doing the splits in the middle of the floor and has a foot in the air only a few inches away from her ear.

"Leonie, _what the f-"_

**9**.

The new Golden Deer class is the first up in the morning – just as the dawn lights the world – for the start of what will be two weeks of basic training before the week-long testing to decide class placement. The fact that the new Golden Deer class is _always_ the first class up in the morning escapes no one. The Church has always favoured the Empire and Kingdom more so than the Alliance, they would never risk the long line of influential and paying nobles pulling out because they sent the students off to train in the dark and shadows of the morning of the first month.

The staff wait eagerly to see the first of the students return from a run around the outer village walls. More than one are excited and have gossiped about a common Deerling who's helped with food and deliveries. Even more are excited to see the blood, sweat, and tears of nobles and children who are bound to whine and cause trouble throughout the year. The first run is always the hardest, scrapes and faintings are expected as everyone is threatened with expulsion if they're so slow the next House passes them.

This year, Seteth's added the clause about not carrying anyone. Probably for the best, the staff agrees, remembering the obstacle course. So they wait, more and more curious as the hours tick by and it gets closer to midday with no sign of the Deer.

The gossip stirs and travels quick as all fourteen Golden Deer trudge for the cafeteria. Six students have been carried since they finished the run, two are walk and don't look any bit winded.

Leonie kicks open the door to the dinning hall. She sets down Lauza and Lorenz before practically skipping over to the servers. Raphael gets Ignatz and Gregory down before following. A wheezing Claude drops Penelope in a seat before collapsing in one himself, while Hilda practically swings Lysithea into her lap in an effort to _rest_. Tristan, Linden, and Winston collapse more on the table than in a recognisable sitting position.

Tristan mutters into the wood, "I can't feel my legs."

Marianne shuffles into range and casts, "_Heal_."

"Thanks," he groans.

She nods and hurries to take a seat next to Hilda, pale and shaky but still moving.

"Hope you're ready for some food!" Leonie practically sings, smiling wider at the disappointed moans when they don't see her with any. She and Raphael drop water glasses in front of each of them.

"It's important to drink water!" Raphael laughs and trades knowing grins with Leonie. "You'll get terrible cramps without it. Not even a shield can protect you when you're thirsty!"

"It can protect my dignity," Hilda moans as Marianne works on healing her.

"No need for dignity in a battle of wills!" Leonie calls back as she and Raphael are hailed for gathering the meals.

When they come back, warm and cool smells drifting from plates, Claude finally lifts his head and stretches out a hand, "You are my heroes."

"One day it's going to be you guys delivering us food," Leonie jokes. "Wait, does the Church do some kind of eating contest? I think I remember hearing about a food contest."

"Fish," Hilda hisses and lunges for a plate as soon as they touchdown. "My brother told me all about it. There's a fishing tournament, and then a who can eat the most fish contest."

"Sounds like my jam," Leonie goes back for more, chuckling as she hears someone ask about jam.

Everyone has more or less recovered and dug into the multiple platters by the time the first of the Blue Lions appear. Leonie, the only one not in a conversation or complaining, stops to lean back and wave at the familiar faces. Sylvain waves back, Ingrid and Felix nodding, while Dimitri and Dedue make their way over.

"How'd it go?" she asks before they can greet.

Dimitri straightens, smile widening, "I believe it went well."

"His Highness kept pace with myself and the others or he would have been here sooner."

"_Dedue_." Leonie can't help but relax her smile at how red the prince's face goes. "I was not going to leave you. Today is to test us, not to train us."

"You all made great time," she supplies. Now it's Dedue's turn to get red cheeks. "Really! Much better than us! The activates are also all spread out so the Houses aren't supposed to see each other today. It's super awesome you guys made it here so fast."

Claude suddenly appears, still a bit shaky but in much better complexation then he was when he first sat down on the other side of their classmates, "We did run together so they couldn't expel us all. Only as fast as our slowest. Hello Dimitri, Dedue. How was your morning?"

Leonie rolls here eyes and reclines back on the table. Dimitri's smile wobbles as he answers, "Ah, good morning Claude. It was well, thank you. And yours?"

"As well as it could be," whatever he was going to bite out switches his fake smile into a half grin. "You might want to head over to your table, I think your friends think we're stealing you."

The other three Blue Lions are looking rather intently over here. Dimitri stammers out his goodbyes while Dedue bows to Claude and nods with a soft '_until next time'_ to Leonie. The young woman calls out, "Good luck on your next test!"

Claude waits until they're getting food to sit down on Leonie's free side. He goes to fill his plate again, whistling away and ignoring her stare. Eventually, Leonie snorts and goes back to eating with a tap on his foot, "Something you want to talk about?"

"Who, me?" Claude's smile looks real enough, but it only reaches his eyes for the moment he taps her foot back. "What's there to talk about?"

After a stare down moment, Leonie waning between seeing if Claude has something against the other prince or not, she shrugs and decides today really isn't the day to accidentally drive a wedge into their budding partnership. Not when they're all supposed to be playing the system. Instead, the young woman goes for the lighthearted yet deadpan, "It's his hair isn't it?"

Claude practically freezes with confusion.

Leonie stares him dead in the eye, "It looks like noodles."

He squeaks before coughing laughter into his hand. Leonie rears back in surprise at the reaction, a faint nice warmth in her chest as she shrugs and goes back to eating. When he gets his breathing under control, Claude wonders, "And my hair?"

"I'd say it looks like a bird's nest, but you style it too well for that. The run didn't even mess anything up. Feel like telling me your secret?"

Claude winks, "All natural."

Leonie cusses and he laughs again, messing her hair up when she doesn't duck away.

**10**.

Three days in and the constant workouts are starting to wear on people. Leonie's more than fine, she's getting a constant supply of free food now that she's a student. The calories more than make up for what she normally lost while practicing away from her village. Her fingerless gloves are starting to fit better, arms and legs starting to fill in her Officer's Academy again. The sudden increase will have to go down once theory classes start, but for now Leonie's enjoying all-you-can-eat meals.

Raphael is the only other person not slimming down, even compared to the other classes. Between the stress, lack of naps, and continuous physical activity, the nobles are taking it hard. All except Claude and Dimitri, both of which are trying to keep spirits up.

There's a rumor that Edelgard fainted from over exhaustion, but Hubert's threatening anyone mentioning such into submission.

"Leonie," Seteth appears for the first time since his speech, "a moment after your next set."

The orange haired woman nods and lines up with her class. Catherine puts two fingers in her mouth and whistles, and everyone swings their swords in a choreographed movement. After they repeat it another hundred times, she lets them off for a water break.

"Hey Seteth, what's up?"

"Bernadetta has been refusing to leave her room again," he deadpans. "Would you be able to finish your run early and get her out."

"No can do, sorry," Leonie is not the least bit apologetic. The Deer have a plan and she hopes the Church is sweating in _fear_. "Why not split the Eagles into groups and put her in with people she's comfortable working with? I've heard Linhardt's had some trouble, maybe pair them up with Caspar so they can all stay motivated to keep moving? Balance the energy or something?"

Seteth hums but takes the idea with, "I will think about it. If you change your mind, come to my office."

"Have a great day," Leonie waves and hurries back into formation at the whistle. In her mind, she's accepting the joy of imagining stabbing people to get her through the uncomfortable feeling of letting Bernadetta down. Also to take her thoughts away from the sweat smell that's only growing as people's Faith shields work more on keeping them on their feet than keeping them clean.

She can't wait until the sauna is rebuilt.

* * *

**A/N: Welcome to the Officer's Academy. **

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to ShadowWolf223, xenocanaan, EmpirePlayer, IReadNoNonsense, Xekinor, guisniperman, Lunar Black Blossom, DestructionDragon360, GlaresThatKill, Eclipse130, Greatest Guy, northernlion196, Shadowclonier, Genin, Raj8, Guest number 720, Guest, TheGiantRock, HersheyBby, BlueBunnyims, Kat, and WhiteVolder for reviewing! Thank you all so much, the support truly means a lot!**

**Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone is well and has a great day! Please take care **


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

**1**.

"What about this one?" Leonie asks Lysithea within the confines of their room. It is _much_ easier to go through glyphs and wards when it's just the two of them.

Lysithea reads through what the sigil is supposed to do and nods slowly, "Let's give it a try."

Leonie takes the book back and drops it on her crossed legs. She focuses on the intent of the magic, clapping her hands together and closing her eyes. The magic surges to her palms, sparking against skin. Opens her eyes at the same moment of pulling her hands apart, a terrifying spiderweb-like circuit of pure magic hangs between callouses. The glyph forms itself with the strands; when it's stable Leonie announces, "It's good."

Lysithea hesitantly pokes a finger at it, hissing when it burns, "Not this one."

Leonie claps her hands together and absorbs the magic. She lets her own hiss out, shaking the smoke out and _Healing_ her palms. "Too bad. Is that the last blocker?"

"Yes," the teen isn't happy. "There has to be some way of cutting off the Crest power. Maybe we're looking at this wrong. The diverters are numbing me, and the blockers are burning me. What are in between them?"

"Maybe there's something in the library," Leonie rubs her eyes, wincing at a minor shock from leftover magic. "Otherwise it would have to be something with holes in it to allow your Crest… out, for lack of a better word." She debates and _debates_ with herself, but not yet. Don't reveal Crest bonds yet, and maybe the library can do that for her, no matter how much the Church has squashed that information. "Almost like a filter or sifter. There has to be something like that out there. Wasn't something- something like how the Church outlawed the creation of plastic because it wouldn't degrade naturally."

"Are you thinking about the flammable black water?" _smack_.

Leonie blinks in shock at how fast Lysithea covered her own mouth. Lysithea also appears stunned, but more scared than anything as her eyes dart around the room. Slowly, carefully, Leonie takes the hand away from the teen's mouth, "No one can hear outside this room. No one can enter without us knowing. You are _safe_. Do you want to talk about it?"

Lysithea shakes her head, _no_.

"Okay," Leonie nods. "You're okay. Are you still with me?"

"I'm not having a panic attack," Lysithea snaps, still paler than usual. "It just- reminded me. Of something. Something-" she sobs and wrenches her hand back to hide her mouth again.

Leonie nods and situates on the bed with her. Lysithea lunges for a hug and shudders with silent tears. She cries until she falls asleep. Leonie carefully clears the bed of books and papers, settling next to the girl when the teen won't let go in her sleep. The young woman sings a lullaby quietly to the air, mind hunting for memories as she tries to think why black water would be scary.

_No_, wait, _flammable_ black water.

_Crude oil_.

Her memory draws up animals covered and helpless in it, ecosystems dying from it. Oceans on fire, air polluting. Something one world had taken to refining, while this one only has a misleading name for it. If they are the same thing, of course. Magic throws plenty of naturally occurring materials off kilter.

Leonie hopes that she is wrong in her thought process. That this is some other substance she has never encountered before. The idea that the Church may have control – or worse, purposefully chose to ignore it and now Those Who Slither in the Dark have it – is horrifying.

Not as horrifying as nuclear fission and fusion in this medieval-like setting, but the Church has made it clear they are much too stagnate to ever discover that within Leonie's lifetime. Small mercies.

**2**.

It's not that Leonie doesn't trust Lysithea… it's that she doesn't trust _anyone_ to not try and kill her while she sleeps. The young woman awakens at every twitch, shuffle, or snort. As the first rays of sunlight hit their window, she is awake the moment Lysithea is. She blinks slowly at the pink eyes, Lysithea staring with a sleepy haze at the ceiling.

"I dreamed," the teen begins, tapping on Leonie's hand, "about a ward. It looked a lot like your alert one, only this was made to fit the entire border of the Alliance."

Leonie mutters into the pillow, "Did it work?"

"Yes," is hissed in amazement. "An alert of where and when, but not who. I couldn't figure out how to get the _who_."

_Several ways_, Leonie thinks. Sense of a Crest could narrow it done, get the name of everyone in the continent, or use something to capture an image. Each with their own difficulties and downsides. Instead of mentioning them, Leonie groans while she gets up, her hands still not forgiving from the last few glyphs, "Do you feel alright for some food, and then the library?"

"Yes," Lysithea sighs and gets out first. "Let's go surprise Claude with my presence."

They kindly look away from each other as they dress, no mentions or stares at the scars they bare.

The students get a two-day break from all mandatory activity, next week only getting one before they have to move out to the competition area. Proving more are adjusting to the early mornings, Raphael and Ignatz are sitting with Claude when Leonie and Lysithea arrive. Everyone else has arrived by the time they're finished and bantering about the week. Everyone – even Lysithea – is in a much better mood now that they aren't stressed with the _need_ to workout today. Sluggish and tired, _yes_, but no tension or gearing up for a grueling day.

"You're going to study already?" Hilda makes a disgusted noise at the thought.

Leonie laughs, not feeling it, and gives the cover, "I have a lot to make up for and Lysithea's promised to hit me with it until it sticks."

"I didn't say it like that," the whitette denies but smiles nonetheless.

Claude's expression practically lit up when he heard where they were going, Leonie saw him hurry to put his stuff away, but it is surprising when he throws his arms around their shoulders, "Let's go then! There's plenty I want to see in the famous Garreg Mach Library."

Lysithea shoves his arm off and storms away. Leonie laughs, grabbing his hand and tugging him forwards, "The more the merrier!"

The young woman greets everyone they pass, needing to be pulled away at one point lest she start a full conversation with Alois. She and Claude wave cheekily in Seteth's open door as they pass. When they near the section of the second floor Leonie's never been to, she warns them, "I do have to leave at the tenth bell. Flayn and I are pulling out some old sheet music for her to go through, since band starts once classes are settled."

"At this point you're like her assistant," Claude eyes her, a burst of his Crest poking and sliding around the diverter ward.

"I'm just keeping busy," Leonie denies. "Flayn's great and has a lot of ideas and plans for this year. I like being a sounding board."

"Sounding board?"

Lysithea also has that look, like she's waiting to hear what familiar excuse Leonie is going to pull up. The orange haired woman tries come up with a good definition and ignores the questioning gazes on where she heard the words together, "It's like, you have an idea. You tell the idea to one or more people and get their feedback. It helps to determine whether the idea is a good – or reasonable – idea or not. The audience is the sounding board."

"Sounds like a Roundtable meeting, really," Claude shrugs and throws an arm over her shoulder again, holding out the free one. "Picture this. Five old people sit at a table. One of them throws out an idea, the other four tear it to shreds. This can go on for days."

"Sounds like torture."

He laughs, Lysithea coughing to hide hers, "It is, but sometimes things get done."

Claude drops his arm near the entrance to the library. He hurries in first, turning to get their reactions. Lysithea's eyes are bright at the several floors of books, plenty one-of-a-kind originals and thick volumes. She's practically stunned with the thoughts on where to start.

Leonie, however, feels something almost sticky wash over her as she enters. It's enough to make her pause and _focus_. There's something moving around her diverter ward, never trying to touch or connect, but instead attempting to keep track of everyone who enters. It's faint enough to come off after a few steps; likely she never would have noticed if it weren't for the feeling of moss – maybe a scent of pine or grass – being smothered by the thing. Though, maybe _smothered_ is the wrong word, but something made by Seteth's magic and Crest abilities has been riddled with holes until only the untriggered alarms reside. Alarms that cannot trigger because they are not connected to any alert system. Like a solar powered timer with the line to the buzzer cut.

She tenses, and then forces herself to relax. To meet Claude's faltering gaze. To lie, "I never imaged so many books could exist."

Tomas comes over. Leonie has to cross her arms in order to not reach for a weapon. He guides them to an empty table, telling them to ask him if they have any questions, "There are labeled sections of books where only teachers and myself may remove them. You are free to look at the titles, but your earliest chance of reading them will be once you are assigned a main teacher to your House."

_Challenge accepted_, Leonie thinks as he hobbles away. She pulls out some scrap paper, a book with the connection schema, and a pen, "Claude, you're taller than me. Help Lysithea get some books down."

They blink down at her, Lysithea in particular long-suffering and used to her roommate's antics but has to ask, "Are you getting kicked out of the library?"

"Absolutely not," Leonie begins drawing out the matrix. "Just a bit of early homework."

Lysithea stops Claude's question with a, "Don't bother. She'll tell us when its ready."

Leonie's writing down notes about tweaks to the formula when they get back. She's so engrossed in the possibilities that her head doesn't raise when they return, only giving the two a wave of acknowledgement. She has previous scribbles about how to copy writing from the success on linking books, but what she wanted at the time was something used for conversation or to keep her original sources intact. Violating all copyright – not that Fódlan has great laws about it – had felt wrong from the echoes of her past life.

It's been long enough. She's over it. Time to see what the Church considers rated R.

"Okay," Leonie nods and leans back, satisfied with her changes. She pulls out a blank book and capped inkwell. "This would have been so much easier if we could take the books, but whatever. This way they can't get me for destruction of private property."

Claude pauses over his book, eyes narrowed, "I thought you said you weren't going to get kicked out. What are you doing?"

"I'll let you know in a few minutes. Don't want to embarrass myself even more."

Claude is cut off my Lysithea hissing, "If anyone asks, _I don't know you_."

"That's the spirit!"

Leonie flaunts off to the restricted section with a blank paper and pen to pretend to be making a list. She writes down a few names and what classes they might be used for, for show, and when there's no one on her wall she _blinks_.

_Green and brown and red and black and what is that what isthatwhatisthat-_

_Blink_.

There's something eating at the wards, mixing in with the restrictions. The Church employees and the ones who can mimic acceptance with fake Crest Stones can take the books and bring others in. Something moves in the real Crest-based magic, chewing through them before they can regenerate and seal off the fake things.

_No time to be sick_, Leonie thinks and forces a diverter ward on a book with an interesting name. She uses her Crest vision to make sure she isn't going to touch the wards or their parasite – makes sure nothing is on and eating away at her own constant magic – before licking a finger and placing an invisible mark on the spine of _Crest Facts and Theories: Gloucester_.

The first ward placed and working, she Leonie gathers her strength and keeps the diverter ward around the book while also holding a link that will work to copy all ink placements in the book. She slides into her chair, thinking how it would be easier if both books were facing the same way but oh well, and tells her tablemates, "Act natural."

Of course they don't, choosing to stare with wide eyes as she pops the inkwell cap and begins to slowly pour. The empty book cover absorbs the liquid, using three-quarters of the bottle before Leonie gets the sense it's finished. Her magic cuts first the link, then the copy, and finally the diverter. Leonie corks and stuffs it away, while Lysithea lunges across the table and flips the book open at its middle. Lines of handwritten words stare back at her, "Did you-"

Leonie finishes when her roommate doesn't, "Copy the content of a restricted book? Yes."

"Teach me," Claude stares at the book in awe.

"No. It's way above your current level of magic."

"Teach _me _then," Lysithea fans through the pages.

"It's way above your current stamina levels."

"Is _not_."

"Trust me," Leonie huffs and snatches the book back. "It is. I wasn't even sure it would work."

Claude snatches it back, "Can you get me the Riegan one?"

"Later," she promises and pushes it down so he has to look at her. "Let me check that it worked properly. It could be missing the back pages if there weren't enough."

He hands it back, reluctant, "Why Gloucester?"

"Curiosity," Leonie shrugs. "Also it was in a good spot to hide what I was doing. Speaking of which, how many people are looking over here?"

Claude does a very discreet scan, which Lysithea could learn a thing or two about, "Only a few. Tomas is busy on the second floor."

There are a handful of blank pages at the back, which means nothing should be missing. The ink at the start is rather faint, but there is no way to check if could be from a slow start or just appears that way in the real book. This one won't lose any information if the original is destroyed, but it also won't gain anything if there are any changes. It's like any other book now. "I'd offer to make copies of this, but I don't want to risk Seteth finding them out."

"Where are you going to hide it then?"

Leonie grins and tucks it in her pouch, gaze never leaving his, and Claude unable to see. He raises an eyebrow when her hands come up empty, and a look under the table reveals nothing. She winks, "You only have to ask for it when we're out of here."

Lysithea's grabbed the papers with Leonie's matrix and makes a noise at the complexity, "How did you know to do any of this?"

"A _lot_ of trial and error," Leonie grabs a book from their pile in exchange. "_Swordspersonship and the Rise of its New Arts_; will we actually learn the history of Fódlan's sword styles in class?"

"_Yes_," intone the nobles.

_School_, Leonie thinks, longsuffering but cracking the book open. She swallows the curses at a list of names, titles, and their founding styles. It almost feels like a science class: thirty-percent dead people to remember and seventy-percent real-world applications. If true class is like this, Leonie is going to cheat the theory tests.

If she hurriedly tucks away all her advanced things the moment she sense Tomas coming to their floor or – even worse – over to them, then Claude and Lysithea do nothing but give her weirded out stares.

Leonie smiles winningly and resolves to copy every book in the Abyss library because this material is so censored and hateful towards the styles from other countries that it could give her allergies with all of its dogma.

**3**.

"Seven people?"

"I know!" Flayn clasps her hands together and vibrates, practically jumping for joy, "There are so many! I am looking forward to this year so very much!"

Leonie keeps her smile plastered on to hide the indignation. Uncultured plebs, NPCs the lot of them. Some haven't joined because of money – _understandably_ – while many do not because of the lack of interest. Leonie would have taken it just for the boost in math, but it is not like the masses in this world can make a correlation between the two when the only marketable art is ever portraits or religion-related masterpieces. Bards are practically a dying breed in these lands, no wonder there are no _singers_ on the battlefield.

Seven isn't many, but she's seen less in a jazz band. "It will be fun. Maybe we can see if the choir will team up with us sometime."

"An excellent idea!" Flayn points to another box in the storage room. Leonie shuffles things around to get it down. "I will send in a request to my brother if our group is comfortable to play with them. Ah, I guess we cannot quite decide on the music until everyone has chosen their instruments…"

"We can at least sort what is available," Leonie grunts and hefts the three-box load up. Flayn grabs the fourth and together they march back to the music room.

"Speaking of instruments, what do you wish to learn this year, Leonie?"

"Huh?" her brain crashes for a moment, because she's thought of _what_ but hasn't _exactly_ narrowed it down. "Oh, um, I'm not sure. I've gotten a taste of them all from tuning, but I guess I haven't decided yet."

"You may as well choose one today," her instructor says with bright eyes. "A gift, since you have been keeping me company all these weeks. Oh, how exciting! What section of instruments was most to your liking?"

There is no way she's swapping spit, no matter how long ago someone once touched the instrument, "I really liked the strings."

"That narrows it down some…" Flayn hums and sets her box down on the table. Leonie follows suit, unstacking.

It's like this: Leonie knows how to play the violin, choosing it would be an easy fly through the year that would showcase probably too much of her previous lessons. She doesn't want to learn an entirely new clef, the Church doesn't have any guitars, banjos, or lutes, and the day she has patience to learn the harp is the day the world burns. Shamir has made mention of a Koto, Flayn has wistfully described a zither, but neither of those instruments are recognized by the Church.

As nice as the easy route would be, Leonie suggests, "How about the cello?"

Flayn agrees with an eager squeal. She hustles Leonie into a seat, carries out two of the instruments, and gets to showing her the fingering and scales.

They lose their time to the lesson, but Leonie will admit – even to the quiet unfeeling parts – that it was a _nice _time.

Even with the hint of ozone running along her diverter.

**4**.

Leonie manages to slip away giving herself a few hours before dinner to hide down in the Abyss. Most of the things on the list they gave, she already has through a combination of paranoia and preparedness. She'll restock tomorrow easily enough, a busy day down in the village.

What is rather… _annoying_ shouldn't be the right word but it's how Leonie feels… _hurtful,_ would probably be the correct feeling if she could get it in the moment, is how she hands over the stuff and is told a few of the ones who needed the medicine have already passed. As though it's _her_ fault for not completing a fetch quest on time.

Leonie acts the part of _so sorry_, let's them think she's some kind of pushover as the ones grieving demand that she gets the goods here faster if she wants a continued place here. It should be _sad_; she should be _sympathetic_ and _understanding_. People are dead and some are blaming her, twisting her exchange for harbour as a promise for goods.

Blaming her and not the system that put them there.

Leonie says all the right words in all the right places, thinking _swords and knives. Stabby slash kill_.

At least aboveground, the people she can stand to hangout with don't blame her for living their lives.

Maybe it's this place. Maybe it twists something in people. Would not surprise Leonie if there was some magical McGuffin keeping the people in their woes and misery. Would not surprise her at all if Yuri turned out to be some kind of Dragon of Suffering, what with how the scent of cold and ice lingers all around.

Either way, she's only sticking around to get what she needs. No point staying in the library now that she is sure she can copy everything it holds.

**5**.

A lot of these things have Seteth's signature and Crest sense lingering on it, a date of removal marked. Most of them are covering up some sordid affair of the Church or religious questioning. There's no one else in the library, Leonie even put up a ward to influence people away while she layers books and papers on top of one another and drips ink down to copy it all. She doesn't touch anything with Seteth's Crest – the only magical signs down here; not even a lick of water or mold repellent – and has made it twenty-one books in when she comes across the _Encyclopedia of F__ó__dlan's Insects_.

Opening to a random page reveals it is most certainly _not_ about insects. Leonie snorts and does a quick flip through the pages, pausing every now and then to read and lose hope in the future. The Church has put a stop to a lot of advancements, things from trying to understand the insides of a human body to an honest-to-goodness printing press. It's a lot of awful that pricks her skin like tiny ants, the idea that someone is cutting off science because they don't want to undermine the teachings of the Goddess. Restricting education from the masses by making sure all books must be written by hand. Never to know if someone died from cancer or poison, all because cutting open a dead body is just shy of banned in the eyes of the Church.

The public reasoning: Faith magic scans can tell the very basic of how someone died if it isn't obvious. Rotting on the inside, bleeding on the inside, sickly blood. Fódlan doesn't have words for all the things in their bodies. Most nobles think their spine is one long bone.

Leonie almost closes the book, done with the sickening sense and resolving to read it when she must stay up late for whatever reason, when three words catch her eyes, fresh in her mind from the night before.

_Flammable Black Water_

'_A sticky black liquid was discovered in northern Faerghus.'_

She reads the whole passage, but the first line sticks and whirls in her head. Something she remembers but has lost the sense of from the time gone by. A horror that settles, real but distant, seen behind a screen.

Seen but not _seen_.

Said over and over again, trying to keep a timeline of a future, who lives and who dies, who _stays_ and who _doesn't_.

Her mind tracks from one thought – _ending_ – to the next. Leonie can't recall the details after all these years, but she has notes on what she could remember. She digs the book out of her pouch now, practically slamming it on the table in her rush to find something that niggles and itches at her to _remember_.

For a moment, she cannot process the words on the correct page. Leonie flips back and has to read through the others because she desperately wants the clues to be wrong. _Let there be other examples, please_.

The Golden Deer ends with: _Swamp - __ Poisoned_

Blue Lions has: _Knife - __Those Guys Still Around_

She skips to Silver Snow: _Castle -__ Her Own People_

"No," is the pained noise from a very cold, attention sharped Leonie who goes back to the supposedly hidden choice.

_Red_, because she had forgotten the real House colour by the time she could write it down, _Eagles_:

_Kingdom -__ Rhea Downs In Flames_

Leonie feels her legs give out before they do. She catches herself on the table, sinking to the floor with her head hanging. She can only hope that Rhea didn't use crude oil to burn the city. Can only hope that when she killed the civilians, it wasn't with chemicals that would kill the environment and doom everyone there to suffering.

Leonie can only hope that when Rhea was going down, she wasn't trying to destroy everyone and everything with her.

Leonie can only hope, because she'll never let it get to that point, even if she must destroy Serios and turn the world against her.

She won't let her people suffer over one person's sinking ship.

**6**.

_Oh_.

Her people.

_When did that start to happen?_

It doesn't feel like friendship, and people are not things. They are not _hers_ and will never be _hers_.

But Leonie wants them to be happy.

Healthy.

_Safe_.

There is a memory that she almost doesn't want to remember. Won't turn away from.

_Will you spare Claude?_

Leonie won't ever let it get that far.

**7**.

Throughout the years it has been harder and harder to remember the routes. Some memories feel completely buried, even if the words are there on the page.

Leonie can remember a scene where Rhea burned the Kingdom capital.

She can remember a scene where Knights turned into beasts.

No matter how hard she tries, no matter how many times it is written, she cannot remember scenes on the bridge.

J̸̢̎ũ̷̼̩͂d̵̞͗i̸̗̊̐t̴̼̩̉͐h̴̘̯͆́,̶̩͛ ̴͈͑͘I̴͕̅'̸͍̺̈́̊m̶̱̯̂ ̴̠̗̑͘s̸̜̉͐o̴̝͌r̷̻̀̈r̶̦͙̊͆y̷̼̆̋.̸͚̺̐.̵̹̓̕ͅ.̴̼͛̉ ̷̤̃I̵̡̩͆̃ ̵͍̟̄̈́l̷̙͙̿̂é̸̤͖̿ą̸̛͝ͅv̷̼̅e̷̫͍͂ ̴̺͚͑t̵̮͘ḩ̴̜̃̆ë̷̻́̾ ̸̻́͜r̵̩͜͝e̸̺̮̊͝s̷̳͛t̶̰̰̀ ̸̝͋͝t̵͖̫̏ơ̶̥̼̒ ̴̳̲̊̿y̵̜̪̒õ̵̯̘̃u̸̝̭͗͝.̷̻̙̆.̴̙̕.̴̻̦̀

There is something missing, but it isn't important. What is, is finding some way to make sure Lysithea isn't in constant pain day in and day out.

**8**.

Bernadetta clings to her back the whole morning, and Leonie keeps pace with Dorothea for two laps before calling for breakfast. The young woman waves to where Claude sits alone, and then to where Mercedes beckons them to the unofficial Blue Lions table. Claude picks up his things and goes to them with little prompting, Dorothea manages to fluster Hubert by the time she convinces Edelgard and he to follow.

"We're going to a café today, down in the village," Leonie explains when Dimitri asks her plans for today. "Well, Dorothea, Mercedes, and I. Bernadetta is going with Linhardt and Lysithea to the library. I think Annette and Ashe are joining us. Anybody here is welcome to come."

"Thank you for the invitation," Edelgard says, maybe a little wistful, "but I have a meeting with Archbishop Rhea today."

"Ah," Dimitri looks sheepish, "myself as well. Claude?"

"I've been told to stick around where people can see me," he leans back on the bench, trying to step on Leonie's foot under the table. He'll need to have a speed buff to win footsies with her. "Apparently I'm going to get a talk sometime today."

"Glad I'm not in charge," Leonie mutters around a spoon. Swallows. Knocks her heel on his. "Dedue? Hubert? Want to come?"

The decline, one more politely than the other.

"Ferdinand is also coming," Dorothea throws in. "Anyone from the Deer, Leonie?"

"Do you _want_ me to invite Lorenz?"

Claude's cousin smirks and leans in to whisper, "I do so enjoy watching them feed each other's delusions."

Leonie rolls her eyes, Claude trapping her foot in the moment of weakness, "I'll ask."

She swipes her foot out and pins his.

Mercedes hums away from her conversation to look Dorothea in the eye, "I wonder what Caspar is doing today."

**9**.

"So, Ashe," Leonie begins, eyeing her teacup as if it has done her a disservice, "how was your week?"

Mercedes slides her a dreamy-looking glance before getting pulled to watch Annette argue _noble prestige_ against Lorenz and Ferdinand.

"I-it was good," the teen startles. "I've done a lot of training back home, so I think I am doing better than most in my class."

"Always glad to hear that," Leonie nods. "Not a lot of people did this intense stuff we're doing now. I was actually really surprised with my class. The Deer are pretty balanced between the physically buff and those trying their best to finish a lap."

"Ah, yes, I've heard you all finish together? Not that there's anything wrong with that! It's just, I've gotten used to hearing about the training stars. Um, Hilda would have to be the only one I hear about from the Deer."

"Much to her displeasure," Leonie laughs. "She would rather be sleeping or making art than exercise. Apparently she has to keep in shape to control her Crest? I don't get it, but I'm not the one who needs to."

"That… sounds like a few in my class," Ashe agrees. "A few I've met with the Crests of Charon and Daphnel have had to do a lot of training. And the heirs… um, have all had sparring experience to prepare for the mock tournament."

"Sounds reasonable," she gives him a comforting smile, "but what's a few spars in comparison to fighting someone who has everything to lose?"

"W-what do you mean?"

Leonie shrugs, "If I don't get into the main class, then I'm really just wasting money that could have gone towards getting a certification or two on my own. I have a lot to lose if I don't get in, while a lot of the noble kids might lose a bit of respect for their family names. From what I hear, we'll probably be competing in the archery contest at some point. Don't go easy on anyone, you get it? All of us who need this will be doing our best!"

"I think I understand," Ashe nods with wide eyes. "I look forward to facing you then, Leonie!"

"Ashe," Lorenz snaps from the other side of the table, turning his glare at Annette to a more refined stare, "you are a noble son, correct? Please tell us your opinion on the proposed Primi Heredis bill."

"I- uh-" Leonie sees the teen visibly swallow _adopted son_, "that is the one where the first child born to a household shall be heir unless mandated otherwise by the Church?"

"Correct."

Leonie makes a face at the politics but leans back and listens. Mercedes is looking rather sickly, not that anyone would normally notice under her airy aura, while Dorothea is rubbing circles on the blonde's hand and paying rapt attention to the networking and information sharing around her.

With all the inbreeding, Leonie's surprised more than one kid can be produced in a household. Must have something to do with the Crests. _Cruel, magical plot devices_.

**10**.

"Leonie!"

Said woman looks up from the magic tricks she was playing with the children – _keep ignoring how crazy healing magic is, don't think too hard on how three more kids no longer have Crests killing them_ – and can't help the curse that slips out her mouth, "Godfrey?!"

He gives her a greeting hug, and she makes sure not to squish him when she returns it.

"What are you doing here- wait," she turns to the kids. "Everyone, this is Godfrey von Riegan. Godfrey, this is-" and she then patiently lists off the names of over twenty kids.

"Nice to meet you!" he waves once it's over, obviously overwhelmed. "Do you kids mind if I steal Leonie for a few minutes?"

There are a few complaints, but Leonie digs out an old, battered book with stories and hands it to one of the older kids that's been taught reading and maths. While they're busy, Leonie walks beside Claude's uncle, his guards falling in line behind them, "Your letter said you were coming, but I didn't think you'd show until after classes were made."

"I'll probably be back here then too," Godfrey admits. "Well, myself or Judith. We're the only two allowed to get Claude out when Oswald's too sick to participate in the Roundtable. So, anyways, what have you been up to?"

Leonie tells him about training, about the people she's getting to know from other Houses, about how her and Lysithea have just moved back to the Golden Deer dormitories.

"Dorothea is now rooming with Bernadetta, and _speaking of_ what the heck, Godfrey? Did you even know she was going to be here?"

He mutters evasively, "I'm surprised you figured it out."

"She definitely looks more like you than Claude," Leonie checks to make sure this is the correct street the girls said they would be shopping in. "When was the last time you spoke to her."

Very. Telling. _Silence_.

"Oh wow," Leonie drawls. "Yet, somehow, you don't have the worst father of the year award. Congratulations, Godfrey. Guess we'll need to fix how we have a better relationship than the two of you. There they are now, _hi ladies!_"

It's Godfrey's turn to curse, "You planned this."

"You gave me the perfect opportunity. Like ripping off an old bandage. _Talk to her_."

"Leonie," Dorothea says coolly, eyes warily going to the guards and obvious noble escorting them. "Are you doing alright?"

"Never better," Leonie replies with a smile that shows a little too much teeth. "Ladies, this is Godfrey von Riegan," there's a little choking gasp from Annette while Mercedes smiles wider and Dorothea goes still like a predator. "He's a pretty nice guy. Sponsored me, Raphael, and Ignatz to come here. Godfrey, these are my friends, Dorothea Arnault, Mercedes von Martritz, and Annette Dominic. Dorothea, Godfrey has something he wants to tell you."

The man visibly gulps and doesn't offer to go somewhere private for this. Leonie isn't sure if that is a point in his favour or not. He nervously runs a hand through his hair and starts with, "I don't know if you remember me… It's been a long time but, I, um, know your mother. We write letters to each other."

Dorothea is quick on the uptake, connecting puzzle pieces Leonie doesn't know about to conclude with a small shake of her head and a deadpan, "You're joking."

He smiles a little softer, a little more reflective, "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me."

"Does _Claude_ know?"

"No," Leonie butts into this very family moment, "or else we would have had words ages ago. I only got my suspicions confirmed today."

Let it never be said Mercedes couldn't see the subtext, she just normally chooses to ignore it, "Oh, so should we call you Sir Arnault, since you are not in line to inherit the Riegan household?"

"Oh Goddess," Annette mutters with widening eyes. "_Oh Goddess_."

Dorothea and Godfrey both get a '_let's keep this on the downlow'_ look on their faces. It won't surprise Leonie when, after Godfrey treats the girls to a meal and catches up with his daughter while she gets the comfort and security of her allies, the three non-Riegans ladies promise their silence while the guards are assured to be some of Godfrey's most trusted.

For now, Leonie is going to enjoy someone else's drama.

* * *

**A/N: Somehow, Are You the Father: Riegan Edition is the least crazy thing to happen to Leonie over the break.**

**Thanks for reading! A really big thank you to StarShow, DestructionDragon360, ShadowWolf223, Sakura108645, Eclipse130, xenocanaan, guisniperman, NihthKuro, Hong-Meirin, Guest, and** **HersheyBby for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!**

**I hope everyone is well and has a great day! Please take care **


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